


The Silver-Haired Twins of Flame

by Thesquirespage



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A/B/O, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Character Death, Dragons, Everyone Hates the Lannisters, F/F, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Lactation, Male Pregnancy, Mpreg, Political Alliances, R Plus L Equals J, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2020-10-29 02:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 68,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20789129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thesquirespage/pseuds/Thesquirespage
Summary: Jon may have grown up disguised as a bastard but he always knew he was the Alpha born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. A Prince and the rightful King. The rest of his family is across the sea in Essos. His Beta uncle Viserys, who believes that he is the rightful King, and his twin Omega aunt and uncle Daenerys and Jaehaerys not even knowing of his existance.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SerSlytherin97](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerSlytherin97/gifts), [sifshadowheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifshadowheart/gifts).

Prologue

Bran chuckled as he watched his sandy-haired Alpha husband get splashed by their twelve year old son as Jorjen attempted to teach little Howland how to catch frogs in the swampy marshland that was their home. Summer snuffled beside him as his young daughter Jacka attempted to practice her warging abilities on the direwolf again. 

“Argh,” the seven year old Omega huffed. “I can’t do it!” Bran chuckled lightly. “Momma don’t laugh it’s not funny,” she protested. 

“Alright, alright it’s not funny,” Bran said as a very wet and very dirty Jorjen approached where they sat carrying an equally soaked Alpha twelve year old slung over his shoulder. 

“It’s alright Jacka,” Jorjen said plopping the wet boy down into Bran’s formerly dry lap with a smirk at his Omega. “Your Momma didn’t manage warging until he was almost fourteen if I remember correctly,” Jorjen said, lifting the girl from the ground putting her atop his as Bran rose setting Howland to his feet. 

The small group walked back towards the castle, the few guardsmen that had followed them out of the castle as a precaution staying quiet but close. 

“Really Papa?” the little girl asked from atop her father’s shoulders. 

“Really, really,” Jorjen said. 

“How did you finally do it Momma?” asked the ever curious Howland as he walked beside them almost vibrating with still unused energy and curiosity.

“Well it’s a really long story,” Bran said. “It started before you two were even born, before I was born even.” Jacka scrunched up her nose in confusion. 

“How can a story about you warging start before you were born?” she asked.

“Because me warging is only a part of the story, and not the main part,” Bran answered with a soft smile as he looked to his husband. 

“Will you tell it to us?” little Howland asked grabbing Jorjen and Bran’s hands allowing them to lift him lightly and swing as they walked. 

“After you get all cleaned up and ready for bed I’ll tell you the story,” Bran said. 

“What’s the story called?” Jacka asked. 

“Well,” Bran said. “I think different people give it different names. Some call it the story of the Bastard Prince, others call it the Tale of the Three Stags, and a few even call it the Silver Haired Children of Flames.”

“What do you call it Papa?” Howland asked. Bran gave his husband a sidelong look and a smile.

“History,” Jorjen answered. “I call it history.”


	2. Dead Knights Of Joy

Eddard Stark was tired, as were his companions. They had ridden hard into the night, to get here; he could see the tower in the near distance. The Tower of Joy, Rhaegar had named it according to Jaime Lannister. If the Dragon Prince wasn’t already dead, he’d have killed the man just for that disrespect. Not only had kidnapped and quite probably raped his only sister he had kept her locked up in a place he’d renamed to be a place of happiness. He grit his teeth. Beside him Howland spoke. 

“We are almost there Mi’lord,” Howland said. “They’ll have seen us we should hurry.”

“We are already hurrying,” Theo Wull snapped from his war pony. Eddard snarled much like the animal his family was known for.

“Not fast enough,” he growled and pushed his horse from the steady cantor they’d been riding at into a gallop. It didn’t take long for the others to catch up to their liege lord, Howland Reed, Mark Ryswell and Theo Wull at his left while William Dustan, Ethan Glover, and Martyn Cassel rode on his right. Their horses were frothing at the mouth when they stopped as they crested the final ridge. 

Eddard didn’t speak as he dismounted. The six men along with their lord could see the three knights guarding the tower from where they stood. These three men, were among the five best swordsmen in the entirety of the kingdom.

Eddard stopped about twenty feet from where Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent, and Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower stood, hand on his sword though he’d not yet drawn it, mirroring the three kingsguard. 

“I looked for you on the Trident,” Eddard said to them after a moment of heavy silence.

“We were not there,” Ser Gerold answered.

“Woe to the Usurper if we had been,” said Ser Oswell.

“When King's Landing fell, Ser Jaime slew your king with a golden sword, and I wondered where you were.”

“Far away,” Ser Gerold said, “or Aerys would yet sit the Iron Throne, and our false brother would burn in seven hells.”

“I came down on Storm's End to lift the siege,” Ned told them, and the Lords Tyrell and Redwyne dipped their banners, and all their knights bent the knee to pledge us fealty. I was certain you would be among them.”

“Our knees do not bend easily,” said Ser Arthur Dayne.

“Ser Willem Darry is fled to Dragonstone, with your queen and Prince Viserys. I thought you might have sailed with him.”

“Ser Willem is a good man and true,” said Ser Oswell.

“But not of the Kingsguard,” Ser Gerold pointed out. “The Kingsguard does not flee.”

“Then or now,” said Ser Arthur. He donned his helm.

“We swore a vow,” explained old Ser Gerold.

Ned’s wraiths moved up beside him, with shadow swords in hand. They were seven against three.

“And now it begins,” said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light.

“No,” Ned said with sadness in his voice. “Now it ends.”

As they moved to clash forward against one another a scream rent the air. 

“Ned!” Lyanna’s voice called causing everyone to pause. The three kingsguard looked at one another before Ser Gerold Hightower sheathed his sword. 

“The Queen calls for her brother,” he said causing the other two to sheath their swords as well. Eddard didn’t even stop to think that it might be a trap or that they had called his sister Queen just dropped his sword to the sand before running past the knights and into the tower. He took the steps two at a time as he climbed. Soon enough he reached the room at the topmost part of the tower. His sister was being cajoled back into the bed, away from the window, she’d obviously screamed from. He crossed the room in three strides to stand in front of his sister.

“Lyanna,” he breathed, before gathering her in his arms. Lyanna hissed in pain but brought her arms up around her brother nonetheless. 

“Ned,” she said softly, her voice was weak, a facile of what it had been only moments ago. Eddard pulled away gently to look upon his sister closer. Lyanna was pale and tired looking. 

“My Lord, she must lay back down. It’s not good for her to be up and about so soon after such a difficult birthing,” the nursemaid who’d been attempting to get Lyanna to lay down when Eddard had first come up said.

“Birth?” Eddard asked looking around, arms still holding his sister, even as he spied the crib that sat beside the single cot in the room. 

“Promise me Ned, please,” Lyanna begged causing Ned to look back into the face of his sister. Her eyes were wild and desperate. “He’s Rhaegar’s, Ned, but he’s mine too, promise me,” she continued begging and searching Eddard’s face for anything that showed his agreement, “Promise me you’ll protect him.” For a moment Eddard was silent as tears rolled down his face, he could feel the life leaving her as she leaned more of her weight against him unable to stand up on her own. Eddard looked down at their feet. There was a fresh puddle of red and he tore his eyes away to look into his sisters eyes.

“I promise Lyanna,” he whispered. She gave him as soft smile lifting a hand to his face in an attempt to touch his cheek. Before she could touch him she lost her strength and Eddard could do no more than watch on as he saw the life leave her eyes and felt as her body suddenly stiffened and then relaxed as her muscles finally let go and her existence expired. Tears rolled down his face as his legs gave out and he fell to his knees still holding his sisters body even as his pants became saturated from the puddle of her blood. A baby’s cry rent the air and Eddard threw his head back and howled his grief. 

\------------------------Don't Mind Me I'm Just A Page Break!--------------------------

They were a day’s ride from King’s Landing, camped out of sight from the road, even though the more famous members of their party had discarded their white cloaks in favor of brown ones drawn far over their heads. 

After the events of the Tower of Joy, which privately Eddard had renamed the Pillar of Tears in an unusual pike of poetry, the now ten men had come up with a plan. Eddard was unwilling to let his nephew be murdered at the hands of his best friend, even had he been without the knowledge of his sister’s dying wish. It was a sentiment echoed by the kingsguard and even the men who had followed Eddard. Unfortunately the nursemaid had to be killed in order to keep the secret as she was only a local woman whom the kingsguard had hired when it was obvious that the war would not be over before Lyanna gave birth.  
Howland had gotten a wet-nurse in one of the small villages, one who had shown Howland a hand signal the moment she’d seen him causing him to trust her implicitly. It was how Eddard and the others learned that the Reeds were traditionally the Spymaster’s for the Starks in the North. It was something Eddard’s father had most-likely told Brandon but not him as he was only ever supposed to be the spare and not the heir.

Eddard would go to King’s Landing to tell Robert of Lyanna’s death, though he would refrain from alerting the man as to the manner and reason behind Lyanna’s death. He would also proclaim Ser Arthur Dayne, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower dead. Unfortunately a few of Eddard’s own party would have to be declared dead in order to make the story more believable. Martyn Cassel and Theo Wull had already volunteered. 

Martyn Cassel was a Winterfell man at arms before the war and Theo Wull was a leader of one of the Northern Mountain clans, neither were men the south would look to close into. Theo was going to head home, the Northern Clans didn’t interact much with the noble factions even of the North and therefore it would be unlikely for him to be recognized. Martyn had accepted a position from Howland as a man at arms in Greywater Watch, he would have to change his name and Eddard would send his wife and the babe she had likely already born having been pregnant when he rode off to war to Greywater when he returned to Winterfell.

The three kingsguard would also be going to Greywater Watch. Howland had assured the entire group that none of Varys’s ‘little birds’ or any other spy had ever gotten into Greywater. Eddard believed him considering even his father hadn’t known the exact location of the mobile swamp keep, and any that entered the marshlands without knowing exactly what they were doing, soon found themselves under the swamp, if they hadn’t fallen to all the other various denizens that populated the humid area. 

Concerning Lyanna’s babe, whom Eddard had named Jon, staying very far away from any name that might cause anyone to look a little closer to the babe’s origins, Eddard had claimed the boy as his own, as a bastard. Ser Arthur had provided more help in that regard, convincing the group to allow him to tell specifically his father and mother that he was still alive, when Eddard had returned the Sword Dawn. Arthur’s father had promised to keep the sword until young Jon was ready to take on his title and Arthur would metaphorically return with his fellow kingsguard to the living. Arthur had also convinced his father of one other thing that could protect the baby prince; to allow Eddard to sully the honor of Arthur’s sister, Ashera.

When people asked Eddard whom the mother of Jon was, he planned to remain silent, but already Jon’s baby blue eyes were turning violet giving away his heritage. Lord Dayne had given Eddard permission to claim his recently deceased daughter as the mother of Jon, making him a twice over noble bastard. Not only would that form reason enough for Eddard to provide for the child, as a twice over noble bastard but it would also explain the purple of his iris’s as the Dayne’s had dragonblood running in their veins, however diluted.

Ashera herself had committed suicide only a day before the party’s arrival at Starfall after having stillborn a daughter, and that knowledge was not well known. Arthur had broken down momentarily after hearing of his twin’s death, but had quickly done everything he could to turn the events into something that would protect his prince, the true and rightful king. Instead of having committed suicide the story of Ashera’s death would be that she died during childbirth. 

In the morning after they had all saddled their horses the group began to split. Howland going with the three kingsguard and Martyn Cassel to lead them to his home which would become theirs for probably the next fifteen years in the least, and Theo Wull who would ride with them until he had to separate and go the rest of the way to his own home. The rest would be walking into what was now a metaphorical lion’s den and hopefully walking out unharmed on the other side.

“Lord Stark,” Ser Gerold said once everyone was mounted. Jon rested in a crudely fashioned yet efficient sling against Eddard’s chest.

“Ser Gerold,” Eddard said dancing his horse sidelong to the knight with just his knees. Just because Lyanna had been the best rider of all his siblings did not mean he was not also proficient. 

“Keep the Prince safe,” the knight said. 

“I will keep my nephew safe,” Eddard said, reminding the man that he was not doing this because the babe was a prince but because the babe was of his blood. The knight nodded and slid a folded and sealed parchment out from beneath his cloak. 

“If you can get this to ser Barristan, we kingsguard have agreed that his acceptance of The Usurper’s pardon does not discount him as one of us. Give him this. It will let him know we are alive and details everything that has happened since the moment you arrived at the Tower of Joy, and has instructions for him to burn it once he’s read it, so the information will not fall into the wrong hands,” Ser Gerold said. 

Eddard took the parchment and noted the seals even as he slid it into his own cloak. There were three white seals with silver, notable as only kingsguard members were allowed to use those colors. The bull represented Ser Gerold right beside him, while the falling star seal was Ser Arthurs, and the bat represented Ser Oswell Whent of Harrenhal.

“I will,” Eddard said. Moments later Eddard and his greatly reduced party of only himself, baby Jon, Ethan Glover, and William Dustan made their way on to King’s Landing as the others turned North following the path of Howland and Theo both proficient in the way of navigation, which would allow them to avoid all forms of civilization and remain undetected, especially with their supposed dead members.

\------------------------Don't Mind Me I'm Just A Page Break!--------------------------

“Ned!” Robert boomed as Eddard entered the throne room. This was only the second time Eddard had been in this room and he already hated it. This was the place where his father had burned alive and his brother had been strangled attempting to save him. It was also the place where he’d seen the smashed and battered bodies of two babes and watched on as the man he thought he knew better than all of his siblings, spit upon them with a smile while calling them dragonspawn. 

“You arrived here faster than I expected,” Robert said with a smile. “Where is Lyanna?” Eddard opened his mouth to answer but the words were stuck in his throat. The silence delivered the news all on its own. 

“No!” Robert bellowed. “No!” he screamed again before very creatively and very crassly cursing an already very dead Rhaegar Targaryen. He loudness woke Jon who began to cry. Eddard began doing his best to bounce the babe while he remained in the sling, in order to calm the child again, and as Robert began to quiet so too did Jon. 

“And who might that be Lord Stark?” asked Tywin Lannister with a calculating eye. Eddard had to fight not to snarl and bare his teeth at the man as his shrewd eyed watched the babe. It took a moment but using the advice of Ser Arthur, the most politically adept of the three kingsguard, Eddard thought of one of his most embarrassing moments; Lord Arryn walking in on him, ahem, pleasuring himself, and turned bright red ducking his head before mumbling just loud enough for those around him to hear. 

“He’s my bastard,” Eddard said. For a moment there was complete silence before Robert broke off into loud and obnoxious chuckles, slapping Eddard on the back as though not even moments ago Eddard had delivered news of his sister’s death. 

“Honorable Ned found a ladylove to throw that honor away for then,” Robert said interspersed with his chuckles. “Come on tell us his name then,” Robert demanded.

“I named him Jon,” Eddard said lifting his head and looking to his pseudo-father as he spoke. Eddard’s ears reddened once more as Jon Arryn spoke.

“I’m not sure whether to be insulted or honored,” Lord Arryn said as he moved to look at the babe closer. “Purple eyes,” Lord Arryn said in surprise, and Eddard’s heart stuttered before regaining its rhythm. 

“Who was his mother, if you don’t mind me asking,” Lord Lannister asked. Eddard snarled at the man in his head but didn’t hesitate in answering. 

“Ashera,” Eddard said, “Ashera Dayne, she died birthing him, so I’m going to take him North. He will be raised like a Stark.”

“Good for you Ned. Build up your pack again,” Robert said thumping Eddard on the back again. “If I could I’d kill him all over again for everything he did. I only wish I’d been the one to put a sword through his father.”

“Aye,” Eddard said agreeing tiredly. 

“Ned’s probably tired Robert, with the speed he returned I don’t think he or his companions took a proper rest the entirety of their trip. We can get the full report from him in the morn,” Lord Arryn said. 

“Aye,” Robert said. “Barristan,” Robert snapped, “Bring Lord Stark to the Noble guest rooms and ensure he has a meal brought to him. 

“Of course your Grace,” Ser Barristan said. “If you’ll follow me Lord Stark,” Ser Barristan said. Eddard nodded. Ser Barristan led the way out of the room. Eddard knew that accommodations would be found for Ethan and William but the wet-nurse followed Eddard holding her own child. Jon would need feeding soon and Eddard definitely needed something to eat. 

The room Ser Barristan led them too was a decent size and Eddard quickly removed Jon from the sling as the wet-nurse put her own daughter down on the middle of the bed where she couldn’t easily roll off and handed Jon to the woman. The wet-nurse gave Eddard a soft smile before turning away from view and allowing Jon to latch to her breast. 

“I’ll ensure you have a meal sent up, Lord Stark,” Ser Barristan said turning away. Eddard moved before Ser Barristan could leave the room closing the door with his foot even as he pulled the seal parchment letter from within his cloak. 

“What?” Ser Barristan began before falling silent at the sight of Eddard’s finger on his lips. Eddard handed the letter to Ser Barristan. The man would read it here or not at all. Eddard was not risking those words falling into the wrong hands.

Ser Barristan gave Eddard a significant look as he studied the seals that held the parchment closed, before breaking them. The knight took six long minutes to read the letter before hurrying to the unlit fireplace and setting it inside before using the flint usually left for a servant to start a fire to produce a few sparks burning the parchment easily. Ser Barristan stood once the letter was completely burned and took a few moments to pick his words carefully so that no one who didn’t already know the circumstances would understand the hidden nuances in his words. 

“I serve the King, and will remain loyal to him,” Ser Barristan said. Any listeners would automatically assume the knight meant the Baratheon King but Eddard knew that he meant the Targaryen King who lay in a wet nurses arms. It took only moments for Eddard to find the right words to reply.

“Three brother’s wait for you,” Eddard said, referencing the kingsguard on their way to Greywater, rather than the three Baratheon’s it seemed to reference. 

“Of course,” Ser Barristan said. “I’d best be on my way, my duties here in King’s Landing call me.” Eddard caught the hidden meaning behind the words and nodded to the knight. Ser Barristan would remain here in King’s Landing gathering information, as the knight left Eddard let out a pent up breath, exhaustion hitting him fully. He was ready to go to sleep before receiving a meal, hunger be damned.


	3. Dragon to the North, Dragons Across the Sea

Eddard left King’s Landing as soon as he could without seeming rude. About three days after he’d arrived. Long enough to report the deaths of Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold and Ser Oswell to the crown, learn of Robert’s impending marriage to Cersei Lannister, and see Robert order his brother Stannis to take the fleet and take Dragonstone and bring, as Robert said, ‘the fucking dragon bitch and her spawn to King’s Landing so that he could send them to the seven hells himself.’ Eddard wanted to protest but he also didn’t want to bring any attention back to himself and his little nephew. 

Now however he was only about an hour’s ride from Riverrun, the seat of House Tully, the castle in which his Lady Wife, Good Father and Good Brother currently resided, and the place where he was about to present himself and his so called bastard son. To say he was nervous was an understatement. He had no wish anger his Good Father especially considering how beneficial their alliance was to the North, but he also couldn’t reveal Jon’s true heritage to the man. Not yet at least, when all the Targaryen Allies were tired of fighting, perhaps not ever if Robert proved a good King, but certainly not now. 

Hoster Tully had already proved himself an opportunistic son of a bitch when he’d forced Eddard and Jon to marry his two daughters in order to secure his support, and Eddard couldn’t trust him with the secret he held in his arms. If that caused discord and strife between the two men, so be it. 

On the other hand there was also his Lady Wife to think of. Eddard was planning on only staying the rest of the day and the night in Riverrun, and that would be a night and day that his Lady Wife would believe he’d not only sullied his honor but had brought that insult back to her. He planned to tell her of the truth behind Jon’s birth once they were away from Riverrun and among those Eddard trusted. He sighed as he rocked with his steadily walking horse. Jon was back in the crude sling across his chest, not as safe as he might be in the cart with the wet-nurse and her child, but he couldn’t bring himself to let him be out of sight for long periods of time. He looked down at the sleeping child. With his violet eyes closed he looked every inch the Stark he was, abet perhaps more pretty. Perhaps the young prince would be an Omega and no threat to the throne. He looked back to the road again as they continued drawing closer to the red stone of the sandstone keep. At least there weren’t as many snakes here as there were in King’s Landing, Eddard thought as he looked up at the spires. Word was going to spread quickly as to the parties arrival he could see from here that someone was watching from one of the high windows. Even as Eddard turned his head back down to the road in front of him again, a Mockingbird slipped from the window through the halls silently to alert the Keep’s Lord of the coming guests.

\------------------------Don't Mind Me I'm Just A Page Break!--------------------------

The storm screamed and the waves crashed around the rocks. The little Beta boy was scared out of his mind even as his mother attempted to reassure him through pained breaths. Ser Darry knew it was likely that none of them would survive this night, if the storm didn’t murder them for attempting to sail the sea, then it was most probable that it would be a Baratheon sword that would end their lives. Regardless of the probabilities, staying on Dragonstone would be a death sentence. They had seen the yellow sails from a distance early in the afternoon and had already expected it to be the end. There weren’t enough people on the little island, even if they were Targaryen supporters to put up a hard enough fight to prevent the little prince and his very pregnant mother from being taken. That was if the people stood to fight. The people had already begun whispering of selling the queen and her child along with the currently unborn one to the Baratheon Usurper. But then the storm had come. It was a sliver of a chance and Darry wasn’t sure if it wasn’t just a way for the Targaryen’s to choose the manner of their death. Darry and a few of his more trusted men had broken into the nursery where Rhaella slept with Viserys and escaped from the castle itself in the cover of the night.

It didn’t manner now as he lifted Viserys up and steadied Rhaella as the carefully made their way onto the boat. The Rhaella had given the captain one of her two crowns as payment for this, and the man certainly deserved it even if he did work for Varys. No boat came to Dragonstone in a storm, the black spires of rock that thrust up into the air from the water were intimidating enough but they weren’t truly the issue, the hidden spires that peeked out as the waves drew up before being hidden again as the water came crashing back down were. Even when the sea was calm it took a skilled sailor to guide a boat into port at Dragonstone. It was why most merchant ships avoided the island all together going instead directly to King’s Landing. 

The Seven were certainly smiling on them today, Ser Darry thought an hour later. The way ahead was free from the sea storm but behind them he could see the lightning, and fog that encapsulated the isle they had just escaped from. If he couldn’t see the yellow of the Baratheon sails from here than there was no way for the Baratheon ships to see their own sleet grey and black sails of the merchant boat they were on. The waves were still of considerable size but Ser Darry was no longer sure of their impending deaths by the sea.

A scream rent the air causing the little Beta in his arms to clench tighter at his chest. Rhaella had felt the labor pains far before they’d gotten onto the boat but had pushed through so they could make their escape. For an Omega that had seemed so meek beside her husband when they were in King’s Landing, she had a remarkably strong will. 

It was almost an hour later, over ten minutes since Ser Darry had last heard Queen Rhaella scream, and he was beginning to grow worried for her and the babe. 

“Mi’lord, the queen is asking for you and the prince,” a young woman peeked out from the door that led to what was generally the captain’s quarters. The young captain, a man in the service of Varys had given up his chambers so that may Rhaella could have what little comfort was available during the birthing. Ser Darry hurriedly followed the woman without bothering to correct her that he was not in fact, a lord. She was one of the midwives Varys had ensure the ship’s captain would have on board. 

The Queen was pale and sweaty causing her light colored hair to seem dark where it clung wetly to her forehead. Gently Ser Darry set the six year old Beta on the bed beside his mother. Rhaella smiled gently at the little boy brushing his silvery white hair back behind his ear. The little boy attempted to curl up beside his mother, before she spoke.

“Don’t you wish to meet your siblings Viserys?” she asked. 

“Siblings?” Ser Darry asked before Viserys could. The midwife answered from across the room where she stood beside a small crib. 

“Aye, Mi’lord, twins. A little prince and princess,” the midwife said. Ser Darry didn’t say anything more helping Viserys off the bed, ensuring he didn’t accidently hurt his mother, as the child was in a hurry to see his smaller siblings. He turned to follow the little prince to see the newest members of the royal family, but Rhaella caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip causing him to turn back.

“William,” Rhaella said her voice slightly wet. She coughed clearing away whatever mess had resided in her throat. 

“My Queen?” Ser Darry asked. 

“I know you are not of the kingsguard as your brother was but you have defended me and the last of my family as though you were and for that I thank-you,” she said her voice wavering slightly, though her grip on his wrist never did.

“I only did my duty my Queen as was right,” Ser Darry said.

“You’ve gone far beyond duty William, and I have no right to ask for more but I must,” Rhaella said tiredly. “I will not survive this night, even now I can feel the strength draining away from me, every birthing I have gone through has destroyed my body more and more even as my womb killed the child from within. Now however I have birthed two beautiful, living, children whom I will never see grow old,” Rhaella continued as tears leaked from the sides of her eyes. “I bid you to protect them. Protect them with everything you are, my husband may not have made you kingsguard but here and now I say you are.”

“My Queen,” Ser Darry said lowering his big bear like frame down as he kneeled beside the bed that held the dying Queen. “I, Ser William Darry, hereby swear on my honor and my allegiance to protect the Queen and her family. I will do my duties until death, and through that time, keep all secrets of the Queen safe from spread. I will not speak unless spoken to, and I will defend the Queen's land or pay the price. I will wed no wife, father no children and hold no land. I will master the gate, pluck the bow, handle the blade and serve my realm: for now and forever,” he whispered speaking the slightly altered oath of the kingsguard. 

“Thank-you,” the Queen whispered weakly, “Ser William Darry of the Kingsguard.”

Ser Darry knelt beside the bed until far after the sun rose and little Viserys had crawled in to curl up beside his mother. He stayed even as the babes cried for the wet nurse to feed them, holding Rhaella’s hand until it stiffened in his own as tears leaked from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks into his beard. 

\------------------------Don't Mind Me I'm Just A Page Break!--------------------------

“Lord Stark, I welcome you back to Riverrun,” Lord Tully said. Eddard stood awkwardly in his sweat soaked and travel stained cloths while well-dressed courtiers and Riverlands Nobles surrounded him. Jon was behind him in the arms of Lord Dustin. A precaution for the time being.

“For that I thank you,” Eddard said as he dipped a piece of the offered bread into the bowl of salt and ate it mimicking the other Lord as they partook in guest right. They may have already been allies and unlikely to harm on another but it was a curtesy. It also grants Jon protection as a member of my party, Eddard’s brain provided. 

“It has been long since you’ve seen your Lady Wife,” Lord Tully said as his eldest daughter stepped forward. Her Omega scent was flowery as most southern Omega’s were, and in her arms she held a red headed babe.

“I named him Robb Mi’lord,” she said as she showed him the babe, “For your brother in all but blood.” Eddard leaned forward to look into the cloudy grey blue eyes that so resembled his deceased older brother rather than his own. Eddard was completely fine with that. Eddard himself had inherited his mother’s dark almost black eyes, as had his younger sister rather than the light grey ‘Stark’ eyes of his father. He pushed the thoughts of his perished family away before tears of grief threatened to overcome him. The little boy was ever the mix of Tully and Stark, with his tuft of vibrant red hair that was only a few shades darker than his mother’s and the ghost like eyes many of the Stark’s had long been known for. 

“He is beautiful, my Lady,” Eddard said softly running the pad of his sword callused finger down the soft cheek of the babe, causing the child to snuffle and give what Eddard perceived as a smile. 

“Lord Dustan is it?” a voice asked causing attention to turn away from the reunited couple to a skinny dark-haired man, whom Eddard recognized as Petyr Baelish. The man had once been banished from Riverrun, causing him to go south to King’s Landing. Eddard wondered how he had weaseled his way back here. There was no sign of the injury Eddard’s brother Brandon had left across his chest during their duel but Eddard knew it was there. The man was looking towards William Dustan but also towards the babe the young Lord held in his arms. 

Eddard bristled within, somehow this man knew that the babe was Eddard’s and not Lord Dustan’s as it seemed to everyone else. The was no way the Mockingbird could know the babes true origins but Eddard could see just the hint of a satisfied smirk on the man’s face as he spoke and knew he wished to create strife between Eddard and his newly reunited Lady Wife.

“Aye, ‘m Lord Dustin,” William said. 

“Do you too not have a Lady Wife? Your sister if I’m correct Lord Ryswell,” Baelish said nodding towards one of the other man who accompanied Eddard.

“Aye,” said Mark, his voice tight, “That’s correct.” 

“I find it hard to believe that you would allow your Good Brother to bring home a bastard to your sister Lord Ryswell,” Baelish continued nodding towards the child. Before any of the two Lords could answer Eddard spoke,

“He hasn’t Lord Baelish, something I suspect you already well know,” Eddard said. Baelish gave a slimy self-satisfied smile as though Eddard hadn’t just accused the man of attempting to cause trouble. 

“My apologies Lord Stark, I merely found it strange that Lord Dustin should be carrying a bastard babe when the wind whispered that it was in fact you, who had claimed a bastard as your own,” Baelish said before running his tongue across the bottom of his lip. Eddard could feel the shift in the room, even as his Lady Wife took a small step away from him, something that caused the smirk of Baelish’s face to grow wider. 

“Is this true Lord Stark?” Lord Tully asked. 

“Aye it is true, the babe is mine,” Eddard answered. 

“And you plan on bringing him to Winterfell?” Lord Tully asked. 

“He is my blood and he will be raised with my blood,” Eddard answered. He wanted to rip the smug smirk from Baelish’s face with nothing more than his teeth, his wolfblood heating with his rising anger. If he truly had fur and fangs they’d be raised and bared. He didn’t however, and his Good Father was watching him with burning eyes of Tully blue. 

“Do you plan on having him legitimized?” Lord Tully asked. 

“No,” Eddard answered truthfully. There was no need to legitimize a babe who wasn’t a bastard to begin with. Eddard could see that the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands was not happy but was at least satisfied with that answer. Given the way his Lady Wife was glaring at him though, he was not forgiven for his slight.

\------------------------Don't Mind Me I'm Just A Page Break!--------------------------

Eddard and party had ended up staying two more days than he’d originally anticipated, Hoster deciding to throw a feast in Eddard and Catelyn’s honor. Now however they’d been on the road for three days and had finally entered into the North after having passed through the Twins. Lord Frey had tried to extract promises of engagement for young Robb but Eddard had brushed them off best he could as fast as he could not wanting to tie the his babe, whose designation wouldn’t even be known for the next few years to a wife or husband already. 

Within the day they’d arrive at Moat Cailen, the agreed upon place for Eddard to introduce his wife to the kingsguard and reintroduce Jon as the Crown Prince rather than his bastard. Catelyn was still speaking to him curtly acting cold towards him. He was glad however that she was not attempting to keep Robb from him, she did however seem to hate Jon being anywhere near Robb despite the fact that they were only babes. 

Catelyn had taken to riding upon a horse with Robb within a sling against her chest, a mirror of what Eddard had done for Jon from King’s Landing to Riverrun. Jon had ridden with one of the other knights who had taken to carrying the little prince, or very occasionally the wet-nurse looked after him while not feeding him in the cart that traveled with their little party. Eddard knew that the amount of care bestowed upon Jon disgruntled Catelyn but he hoped his Lady Wife would understand just why he had lied. 

Eddard called for their party to halt within the half crumbled walls of Moat Cailen despite it only being a little after mid-day with quite a few ride able hours left in the day. He dismounted and the knights followed his lead as he tied his horse to an old post. He moved to where his Lady Wife sat atop her horse looking at Eddard in confusion.

“My Lord Husband,” she said, “Why are we stopping? We can ride far longer,” she asked. 

“All will be explained in time, Mi’ Lady,” Eddard answered helping her from her horse, careful not to jostle the babe in the sling as he did so. Eddard led the small party away from the horses after taking Jon from lord Ryswell into his own arms. Catelyn scowled at the sight but said nothing.  
They had only just entered the very unkempt main hall of the keep when Lady Catelyn finally noticed that the torches along the way had been lit, along with the braziers in the hall giving it a very mysterious look.

“Lord Stark what is this?” Catelyn asked seeing four cloaked figures standing near the dais on the other side of the room. Eddard didn’t answer right away moving further into the room. They were only about ten or so feet away from the four figures, an ironic mirroring of events that occurred only a few weeks ago at the Tower of Joy only this time Howland stood with them. Catelyn pressed closer to Eddard despite the fact that he was holding Jon. The figures removed the cloaks of their hoods and Catelyn gasped turning to look at Eddard. Not even a week ago he had told her father that three of these men were dead.

“M’lady,” Ser Gerold said in greeting. 

“How?” Catelyn her voice filled with confusion and just the slightest bit scared. 

“They were never dead,” Eddard said with a sigh. “What I’m about to ask you to do is going to be a lot, perhaps even harder than having to accept Jon as my bastard son, but you are the Lady Stark of Winterfell now,” Eddard continued.

“What does this have to do with the bastard?” Catelyn asked anger coloring her voice. 

“Everything,” Eddard said, “Starting with the fact that he is not in fact my bastard, or a bastard at all,” he continued.

“Then why would you besmirch your honor and my honor in such a way?” Catelyn practically yelled disturbing both of the babes. Howland stepped forward arms extended and Eddard allowed him to take Jon as Catelyn focused on quieting Robb. 

“Because Jon is Jon Targaryen, the true born son of Rhaegar Targaryen and my sister Lyanna Stark, and had I not claimed him as my own he would be dead at the foot of the man who claimed to love my sister but only ever really wanted to claim her,” Eddard said once Robb was calm. “He is the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and he is my nephew.”


	4. The King is Coming, The King is Coming

Jon and what the world thought were his half siblings were practicing archery along with Theon Greyjoy. Much of Winterfell was in on the secret of Jon’s birth, including Jon’s so called siblings, excluding Rickon who was yet too young to understand what a secret was, let alone keep one. Theon Greyjoy was one of the few people residing within Winterfell’s walls who didn’t know the secret. The Omega, for all that he was treated as though he was one of Eddard’s children, much as Jon was, wasn’t trusted. 

He thought himself above Jon much of the time, believing the young Alpha to be baseborn, but Robb often helped bring the Omega back down to reality. Not that Robb abused the Alpha Voice he’d inherited from his father, but sometimes Theon needed reminding that he was not in fact at the top of the chain. Jon didn’t have an Alpha voice like Robb, despite being an Alpha himself not having inherited it from his mother. Neither did Eddard’s only other Alpha child Arya. Not many Alpha’s did these days, just as not many Omega’s were able to call upon the ability that had once been known as an Omega whine. The last few who had the ability had all come from the North.

The Alpha voice could force an omega, and depending on the strength a beta to obey. His uncle Lord Stark had the ability and had reportedly only used it once, during the Greyjoy Rebellion against a man known as Petyr Baelish. His uncle had been strong enough to make the Beta man submit during an argument. It was said that Petyr feared Eddard Stark’s voice as much as he had once feared Eddard’s older brother’s sword. 

On the other hand an Omega whine was for soothing rather than to force one to obey. Those with the ability to whine in a specific subvocalized tone, a usually an instinctual ability rather than a conscious one, could sooth a raging Alpha, or Beta, or even at times provide comfort to a fellow Omega. None of the Stark Omega’s had the ability to use the whine, although Sansa had come close a few times. Jon doubted her ability would stop a rampaging Alpha if it became necessary but she was adept at manipulating particularly stupid ones. 

Often times when Jon had travelled to Greywater Watch, Sansa had gone with him along with Bran. The official story was that one of the two Omega’s would eventually be promised to Jorjen Reed, Howland Reed’s eldest son and Alpha, which had an element of truth as Bran was already promised to Jorjen, but the true reason was to provide cover for Jon to have a reason to go there at all. He learned swordplay and other forms of fighting at the hands of the three kingsguard that resided there in secret. Sansa also learned how to play the political games along with Jon at the knee of Ser Arthur Dayne, the only Dornish Knight of the three kingsguard and the most accomplished. Jon learned about his father and some of the Targaryen legends, and Bran learned more of his future husband.

They had discovered that while Jon had a slight resistance to heat from his dragonblood he was not in fact completely fireproof when he had dressed up in Ser Oswell’s white cloak, finding it hidden in a trunk inside the knights rooms and had accidently caught it on fire when he’d rushed around the keep pretending to be a kingsguard member when he was only eleven. While one of the Greywater men at arms had burned his hands pulling it off Jon, Jon had only some small minor burns on his arm and on his neck which had been fully healed only a few days later. 

Rickon, Eddard Stark’s youngest child had been declared an Omega when his scent finally settled only a few months ago, a little later than the average of about four and already letters of betrothal had come, concerning Rickon’s hand despite the fact that he was only five years old. Bran was the only child of Eddard’s who was betrothed but that was because Bran had had a green dream when he was only seven years old and had described Jorjen Reed as his Alpha perfectly despite having never meeting the boy who was only two years older than him before. 

Since then Bran had, had a few more dreams, but none that he could understand or put into words that would make them easier to understand. Some dreams even seemed to fantastical to be green dreams but ever since that first dream Eddard had ensured that each and every one of Bran’s dreams had been written down into a coded journal Eddard kept in a secret compartment in his office behind a false panel in the wall. In the last few years though Bran hadn’t had any dreams that were different from ones he had received before. Sometimes all he could remember was that it was cold and dark before he woke up, or blue eyes staring into him that always served to scare him. Lady Catelyn always had to soothe him for an hour or two after a dream where he saw blue eyes. 

The thwack of an arrow hitting the target brought Jon back to the present. For a moment he was confused, Bran’s arrow was still on his bow. Then he heard Robb chuckle and saw Arya bow only a few meters away. Bran threw his bow towards Theon, before taking off after Arya. She was only a year younger than Bran’s thirteen but she was already taller, a testament to her Alpha genes. 

Jon glanced up to the balcony where Lord and Lady Stark stood watching. Eddard’s attention was soon taken up by Rodrick Cassel, the brother to the Master at Arms who resided at Greywater Watch, supposedly dead. Catelyn gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Both of them knew their roles. Catelyn pretended to hate him, something that had been properly explained to him when he was seven and could properly understand why his identity had to be kept a secret, and he had to pretend to be the stain on the Stark honor. It was a ruse that would protect not only him but the Stark family as well. Jon gave a just as imperceptible nod back before turning away as she hardened her gaze into a glare for any that might be watching. 

“Want an archery contest Robb?” Theon asked motioning with the bow he still held from when Bran had thrown it. Despite being an Omega Theon was very good with weapons, particularly with the bow. He was also part of the reason Bran was being allowed to learn how to shoot, though Theon and Bran had yet to convince Lord and Lady Stark that Bran should be allowed to use a sword. Arya had had to fight hard enough for Lady Catelyn to agree to allow her to learn how to fight. Though the twelve year old hadn’t yet touched a sword, only learning the bow and how to wield a knife. Despite being an Alpha, Arya was still female and didn’t have the muscle mass or build that was necessary to wield a greatsword or a bastard sword that were common to the North. 

Jon had however, with the help of Eddard and his lumber trading across Essos gathered enough valyrian steel to be melted down and made into a small sword that he was saving as a gift for Arya’s next name-day. 

Eddard Stark hadn’t been passive since Robert’s Rebellion. The North had become somewhat of a powerhouse. He had ordered the rebuild of the Northern Fleet, though he’d only called part of it to arms during the Greyjoy Rebellion not wanting to display the full power of the North. He hadn’t even called the full banners, knowing that the Greyjoy’s wouldn’t be able to stand against the full weight of the Crown even had the North not joined and because he didn’t want the south to know how well the North had recovered from Robert’s Rebellion. 

During the peace time that followed the fleet was used primarily as a merchant fleet keeping the sailors practiced, earning those who worked the ships or shipyards wages and keeping up a steady economy for the North, a kingdom that truly held the most untapped resources having the largest and oldest forests in all of the seven kingdoms. These forests were mostly made up of longleaf and lodge wood pine trees, known for their long straight trunks that made them ideal for lumber and ship building. The market on lumber had done so well that there was now a proper harbor and market place at Flint’s Finger, a market that primarily served the rest of Westeros while Whiteharbor on the East side of the North served the Vale and Essos. 

The North now had excess gold even after purchasing stores, mostly from the Riverlands, for the winter. Eddard had put this gold immediately back into the North by dividing half of it among the Northern Lords to use in keep repairs and glass houses for food, further decreasing the amount of gold he had to spend purchasing stores of food outside the North. The rest of the money, after a good amount had gone into the full restoration and repair of Winterfell, had gone into repairing and garrisoning Moat Cailen, which was to be the dowry of whichever of his Omega children married a second son. And recently Theo Wull had travelled to Winterfell using a false name to show his liege lord raw ore that had been mined from the Northern Mountains. The ore had been riddled with diamonds, not the clear or even yellowy color of diamond that most had but by frosty blue diamonds that reminded one of the Northern Blue Roses that grew throughout the North. Eddard had sent Theo Wull home with several large purses to help the rest of the Northern Mountain Clans build up their mining. For now the find would remain quiet and lumber would remain the main Northern export. 

The gold that was left over after distribution had gone into the long term project of building a canal across the neck and through Moat Cailen. The Canal followed the natural waters of the Saltspear and widened the Fever River. Already the Canal had reached past the Moat, from the western side only about twenty leagues from the eastern section of the canal and the project was slightly ahead of schedule, other Northern Lords sending builders and laborers in an effort to speed the project along, all knowing the increase in profits the completed project would cause. If it continued at the same speed as it was now the project should be completed in two or three months, when the two parties of builders and diggers finally met. It would also strengthen even further the Northern defensibility. Robb’s voice pulled Jon out of his thoughts once more.

“What do ya say Jon? Up for a bit of a contest then?” Robb asked. 

“The bastard probably couldn’t even hit the target from ten feet,” Theon said with a chuckle despite knowing and having seen Jon shoot decently from much further away.

“No contest today boys,” Eddard said as he walked down the steps of the balcony into the courtyard. “Saddle your horses. Jon find Bran, this time he rides with us,” Eddard continued patting Robb on the shoulder before heading to the stables himself. Jon hurried off to find Bran; technically Bran was second in line to inherit Winterfell as the line of succession in the North ran through the males regardless of designation, Eddard clearly didn’t want Bran to have to figure out everything himself as he had done when his father and brother had perished if he and Robb were to suddenly die. 

The black fur covered man, barely more than a boy, was whimpering and whispering nonsense as he was dragged to the tree log block. Before he was forced to kneel the deserter turned to Lord Stark and spoke loud enough for all those gathered round to hear. 

“I know I broke my oath. And I know I’m a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them. But I saw what I saw. I saw the White Walkers. People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them I’m no coward. Tell them I’m sorry,” the young man said, before he was forced to kneel, he shook as he looked towards the ground not seeing Eddard nod.  
“In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name,” Eddard began his eyes flicking over to Jon as he continued his statement. Jon whispered to Bran beside him while Eddard continued speaking. 

“Don’t look away,” Jon whispered, “Father will know if you do.” As Eddard lifted his sword Bran stiffened beside Jon, but he didn’t look away as the sword fell. 

\-------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------

“You did well Bran,” Jon said before they all readied to ride home once more. Jon was lost in his own thoughts as the party rode back to Winterfell. Bran’s question pulled him out of his head. 

“Is it true that he saw the White Walkers?” Bran asked. Eddard looked to the sky. 

“I don’t know,” Eddard said. “Before you were born I’d have said, that White Walkers have been gone for thousands of years, but greenseers have been gone for hundreds until you came along. There are reports among the other Northern Lords of green dreams amongst the commoners, and you already know that Jorjen can warg. But still it was only a hundred or so years ago that these gifts have been missing from the North, not the thousands that the White Walkers have been gone for. Besides don’t you think you’d have seen them in your dreams if they had awakened?” Eddard asked.

“I suppose,” Bran said as they continued riding, coming up upon the bridge only a league or so from Wintertown. 

“Hold,” Eddard called out to the party. Just to the side of the road lay a ravaged twelve point stag. 

“Mountain lion?” Theon asked.

“There are no mountain lions in these woods,” Eddard said dismounting, the party following his actions. “Weapons out, Robb, Jon, stay close to Bran,” Eddard called as everyone drew their swords, Theon drawing his two one-handed war axes holding them loosely ready for anything as they all moved forwards sweeping the woods closest to the road for anything that might still be there.

It didn’t take long for the party to stumble upon the dead direwolf mother with her pups whimpering and wiggling around one another trying to stay warm. 

“What is it?” Bran asked as he pushed past Robb so he could see. 

“It’s a freak,” Theon said.

“It’s a direwolf,” Eddard said glancing towards Rodrick Cassel and then too Jon who wasn’t looking at Eddard. “Tough old beast,” Eddard continued pulling the broken piece of antler from the wolf’s bloody throat. 

“There are no direwolves south of the wall,” Robb said incredulously. Jon stared off to the North despite the trees that would block him from viewing very far, before turning his eyes back to the pups. 

“Now there are five,” Jon said picking one up by the scruff and taking a good look at it before holding it out to Bran. “Do you wanna hold it?” Jon asked. Bran smiled and despite the crispness of the Northern air breezing around them Jon got a whiff of smoky spice, Bran’s happy scent. 

“Where will they go?” Bran asked rubbing between the pups ears. “They have no mother.”

“They don’t belong here,” Rodrick Cassel said looking to his liege.

“Better a quick, death,” Eddard said with a soft sigh, “They won’t last without their mother.”

“Right. Give it here,” Theon said reaching for the pup Bran held even as he drew his dagger. Despite the tough act Theon was putting on Jon could smell the acrid sweetness of his sadness like rotting flowers even above Bran’s own scent of burnt bread betraying his emotions. He was not the only one to scent it if the scrunching of Robb’s nose was any indicator. 

“Put your blade away,” Robb attempted to order Theon who merely sneered at the Stark Alpha.

“I take orders from your father not you,” Theon hissed at the Alpha, his scent turning bitter in anger. 

“Please Father,” Bran begged, and Jon could hear as the boy attempted to whine. While the sound pulled at the heartstrings of those around it wasn’t in fact an Omega whine. 

“I’m sorry Bran,” Eddard said trying to be soothing, but failing. 

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. “There are five pups. One for each of the Stark children, and the Direwolf is the sigil of your House. They were meant to have them.” Bran’s scent suddenly turned back to the pleasant smoky spice Jon usually associated with his happiness as he looked towards his father with begging eyes. Beside Jon, Theon’s scent had also changed away from the bitter smell it had did to the salty brine scent it usually was. As much as Theon tried to hide himself behind masks of indifference, cruelty and strength his scent always gave him away. Jon sent a small almost imperceptible smile to his uncle as the other Alpha gave in. 

“You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves. And if they die, you will bury them yourselves,” Eddard said gruffly. Bran smiled and the amount of his scent in the air was amplified with just the undercurrent of salt from Theon. Jon began passing Robb more of the pups while Bran cuddled with the one in his arms that he’d obviously chosen as his own. 

“What about you?” Bran asked Jon when the last pup had been gathered. Jon shot the boy a soft secretive smile before pushing a fingernail into his opposite wrist to help sour his scent a trick Ser Arthur had taught him. 

“I’m not a Stark,” Jon answered as they all stood. Eddard caught his eye, as though the man was trying to assure himself that Jon was not actually hurting. A silent conversation occurred in a single second and Jon’s eyes flicked to Theon the only member of their party not in the know about Jon, Eddard gave a slight nod showing that he understood as they all began to move back towards the horses. 

Jon paused, he could have sworn he’d heard a whimper, not from the pile of pups in Robb and Rodrick’s arms, or from the one happily snuggled into Bran but instead from behind them. He turned and looked towards the dead mother. There, the sound again. Jon stepped forward his foot crunching into the frost that covered the ground. A white ball of fuzz made its way from behind a nearby tree, toddling over to where Jon stood. Jon picked it up inspecting the pup that was smaller than the others had been. 

“The runt of the litter,” Theon said with a snicker, though Jon could smell his disappointment, most likely in there not being yet another pup for himself. “That one’s yours.”

\-----------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys gasped as he woke, sitting straight up. He’d dreamed of being Harry again. He slid out of the bed, his bare feet warm against the cold stone. It was only a few hours since it had gotten dark out and the reason why everyone was in bed, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had a bad dream and Daenerys never minded when he curled up in bed with her afterwards. As Omega’s as well as being twins it was instinctive for them to seek comfort in one another. 

“Another bad dream?” she whispered as he slid into the silky sheets beside her. He nodded as he curled up against her. Her hand found his hair and slowly she ran her fingers through the silky silver strands that matched her own. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Daenerys asked. For a moment Jaehaerys was silent. 

“I was dying again,” Jaehaerys said.

“You were Harry?” Daenerys asked. 

“Yes,” Jaehaerys answered his voice thick. “I was Harry again and Ronald killed me again.” 

“You aren’t Harry anymore,” Daenerys said. “You’re Jaehaerys Targaryen now, you told me even your magic was different. Say it,” Daenerys demanded. “Say you’re Jaehaerys!” she hissed. 

“I’m Jaehaerys, Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen third of my name,” Jaehaerys whispered. 

“Good,” Daenerys said pulling Jaehaerys closer. “Now go back to sleep, big sister will keep the nightmares away,” she teased. 

“Only by a few minutes dear sister,” Jaehaerys mumbled back but already the feeling of their shared warmth was pulling him back into sleep. 

\-----------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------

Eddard was in the Godswood. He came there often just to think. There had been a letter waiting for Jon when the party had returned for the execution of the deserter only two days ago. Ser Gerold Hightower had fallen ill and the maester at Greywater Watch didn’t expect the old man to pull out of this one. Jon had left only the day before taking Bran with him. Eddard had thought it time to make Bran and Jorjen’s betrothal official, not that it wasn’t before but now it would be made public knowledge. 

“Ned,” Catelyn called as she entered the godswood. She held a piece of parchment in her hand. Eddard stood using Ice to steady himself. Eddard always spent more time in the godswood for a few days after any execution but Eddard had also been hoping for a sign or more from the old gods that could lead him to the truth behind the deserter’s words; if the White Walkers were truly returned. Catelyn smiled softly almost sadly at him before looking to the vibrant red leaves of the weirwood tree. 

“After all these years, I still feel like an outsider when I come here,” Catelyn said.

“You have five Northern children, you are not an outsider,” Eddard said softly touching Catelyn’s hip. 

“I wonder if the old gods agree,” Catelyn said. Eddard chuckled,

“It’s your gods with all the rules,” he said, but Catelyn didn’t return his smile. 

“I’m so sorry my love,” she said lifting the small scroll of parchment back into view. 

“Tell me,” Eddard demanded his face turning back to seriousness. 

\---------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break--------------------------------------------

Tears rolled down Jon’s face as he stood solemnly beside Ser Arthur. Ser Gerold Hightower had passed on before, he and Bran along with their guards had reached Greywater. It had taken the boys and their party six days of hard riding for them and their modest party to reach the seat of House Reed, but their speed hadn’t been fast enough. Lord Reed had agreed to take care of the burning of the White Bull’s body and the packing of the Lord Commander’s bones. They would stay here at Greywater until the political fields changed enough for Jon to take upon his title when the bones would be sent to his family. 

Jon had appointed Ser Oswell to the role of Lord Commander but it didn’t feel right, Ser Gerold had been the one Jon had gone to talk to the first time he’d popped a knot as embarrassing as it was. Ser Gerold had laughed at Jon’s bright red face and told Jon how his father had come to him first as well, and that he was well versed in talking of the Bird’s and the Bee’s. Despite having taken vows of never taking a husband or wife, or fathering children the old bull had been a vestibule of knowledge. He had been everything Jon had expected a grandfather or something similar to be and now he was gone. 

Jon had never told his Uncle Eddard that Ser Gerold had already given him the speech about sex when the man had taken him, Robb and Theon aside only a few months later not wanting to make the man that had put his family at risk to keep him safe feel as though he was failing in raising him. Eventually Jon would have to appoint another man to the kingsguard but despite the majority of Winterfell and all of Greywater’s Watch in the know about his heritage there was only a small smattering of others knew of his heritage leaving him with only a small pool to choose from.

“Your Grace,” Lord Reed called as Jon moved away from the table that Ser Gerold’s body lay upon. 

“I believe, I’ve told you before Lord Reed, that you may call me Jon,” Jon answered turning to face the man. 

“As you say your Grace,” Howland said with a twitch in his lips giving away his amusement. Jon merely shook his head. This was an argument he’d lost before. 

“What was it you needed me for Lord Reed,” Jon asked. 

“There was a raven for you,” Lord Reed answered. “From Winterfell,” he continued holding the still sealed parchment scroll out to Jon. Jon took it with a raised eyebrow. His uncle had already told him that Lord Reed was the North’s Spymaster; the parchment may have been sealed but Jon had no doubt that the man had ways around that and knew already what the letter held. Jon read through it quickly, before setting the parchment aflame in the brazier beside him. 

“Lord Reed, it would seem me and Bran will be having an extended stay. Lord Arryn has perished. The Baratheon King is coming North. Uncle Eddard wishes for me to remain out of sight of the King. What better place but here?” Jon said. 

“You know what he wants,” Lord Reed said. Jon drew in a deep breath. 

“Aye, he’ll ask Uncle Eddard to become his Hand. Uncle Eddard will have to say yes. Most likely he’ll bring Arya and Sansa with him, the king will ask for his eldest son to be betrothed to Sansa possibly for Arya to be betrothed to his other son, Uncle will buy time by telling the King that unlike Bran, Sansa has never yet experienced a heat and is therefore to young. Sansa is smart enough to play the naïve little girl who wants to be queen and Arya will run wild as Arya always does,” Jon said. “What I don’t know is where this leaves me,” Jon continued. “Robert has always been my Uncle’s friend but being his Hand,” Jon shook his head. 

“For you to take the throne you mean?” Lord Reed said. 

“That man would kill me, if he knew who I was,” Jon said. “He set assassins to kill my Aunt and Uncles. Until he’s no longer sitting on that monstrosity that my ancestors created and we all call a throne my family will not be safe, be they dragon or wolf.”


	5. The Spider and the Foreign Horse Lord

Jaehaerys stood beside his twin on the balcony as they overlooked the city and all the way down to where the ocean lapped at the wooden posts of the docks. 

“Daenerys,” Jaehaerys whispered his silver locks lifting slightly in the breeze. “I didn’t know, I didn’t see it.”

“You can’t see everything little brother, we should have known it was coming the moment I had my first heat,” Daenerys said. “We should have known that it didn’t matter that you hadn’t experienced yours yet.”

“Still, I wish I could have warned you,” Jaehaerys said. “All I see now are…” Jaehaerys paused rubbing at his eyes. “Horses and dust.”

“Don’t force it Jae,” Daenerys said. “You’ll give yourself a nosebleed again.” 

“I won’t Dany,” Jaehaerys said looking down at his hands for a moment rubbing at phantom bruises on his wrists. “It was hard enough to explain to Viserys last time, without giving away that I could See things.” 

“He hurt you again?” Daenerys asked.

“Nothing I wasn’t able to heal,” Jaehaerys answered as Daenerys took his wrists into her hands. 

“Just because he plans on marrying you doesn’t mean he should be allowed to do whatever he wishes to you,” Daenerys said. 

“Do you think I want him too?” Jaehaerys asked. “I can’t stand up to him, he’s the rightful King sister, our rightful King.” Daenerys sighed.

“He’s not a very good one,” Daenerys said.

“Careful sister, don’t let him hear you say that,” Jaehaerys said. For a moment they were both silent again as they watched a pair of seagulls fight over some kind of scrap in the sky. 

“Have you had any more dreams?” Daenerys asked. “The ones about being Harry?” Jaehaerys shook his head causing some of his hair to fall forward into his face. 

“No, I’d have told you if I had,” Jaehaerys said. 

“Do you think you’ll ever have magic like you did?” Daenerys asked. Jaehaerys was silent before stepping forward to lean against the balcony rail with his arms. 

“No,” Jaehaerys answered finally. “I was never able to See things before, and I can now. I could heal and play with fire but only with a wand. Here I don’t need a wand, but I can’t seem to do anything else, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able too. For whatever reason I think only these memories followed me to this world and for the life of me I still don’t understand why.” Daenerys opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted.

“Daenerys!” Viserys called. “Daenerys!” Jaehaerys gave a sigh as he pushed off from the railing as he followed his twin back into the manse. 

“Daenerys!” Viserys said happily as he saw Daenerys and Jaehaerys. “There’s our bride to be! Look,” he said showing off what was obviously a dress. “A gift from Illyrio. Touch it. Come on. Feel the fabric. Mmmm. Isn’t he a gracious host?” He asked. Jaehaerys touched the dress right after Daenerys feeling the silk flow, and shot a soft smile towards Daenerys. The dress truly was beautiful. 

“We’ve been his guests for over a year and he’s never asked us for anything,” Daenerys pointed out.

“Illyrio is no fool. He knows I won’t forget my friends when I come into my throne, and marry Jaehaerys,” Viserys said before physically adjusting Daenerys’s posture. “You still slouch. Let me see,” he continued as he slid the shoulder of Daenerys dress down. Jaehaerys shifted nervously. He knew the pins and needles feeling that came from Viserys’s touch. “You have a woman’s body now that you’ve gone through a proper heat.” Daenerys froze as did Jaehaerys beside her as Viserys cupped and stroked her breast. “I need you to be perfect today. Can you do that for me? You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?” Viserys asked. 

“No,” Daenerys answered. Viserys nodded removing his hand from Daenerys only to place it upon Jaehaerys’s cheek. 

“And you my sweet Omega brother?” Viserys asked letting his thumb slid across Jaehaerys’s lip as he stepped closer. Jaehaerys fought not to step back, but the last time he’d done so he’d received a hard slap across the face.

“No, brother,” Jaehaerys whispered, as Viserys’s other hand came up to cup Jaehaerys’s hip. 

“Good,” Viserys said pressing a soft kiss to Jaehaerys’s forehead and lingering for a moment before pulling away to leave. “When they write the history of my reign, my sweet siblings, they will say it began today.” Jaehaerys waited until Viserys was out of sight before using the sleeve of his tunic to wipe at his forehead even as Daenerys let her gown fall the rest of the way to the floor and turned to walk into the tub. 

\--------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys could see that his brother was on the verge of throwing a fit in his impatience. Daenerys was wearing the dress Illyrio had provided its sheer fabric and cut exceedingly flattering on Daenerys’s figure. Illyrio had also given Jaehaerys brand new clothing. A set of robes that accented Jaehaerys’s petite stature, and violet eyes with its almost white pastel violet coloring, that was tightly tailored. 

Jaehaerys was only about an inch, perhaps two shorter than Daenerys, but that put him almost a head shorter than Viserys, shorter than most Omega men, though not a whole lot below average. Jaehaerys was pulled out of his thoughts by Viserys finally loosing the little patience he had.

“Where is he?” Viserys said stomping his foot as he did little more than pout. 

“The Dothraki are not known for their punctuality,” Illyrio answered his voice soothing. The clopping of hooves on cobbles brought Viserys back down from his anger. A small host of tribally dressed men rode up on horse. The largest of them wheeled his horse around as he watched the three Targaryens and the Pentosi Magister. As Illyrio stepped forward he spoke in the guttural language of the Dothraki Horse lords. Jaehaerys would translate it for Daenerys later. Languages had always come better to him than they had her or Viserys. Aside from the common tongue and High Valyrian which both Daenerys and Viserys also knew, Jaehaerys could understand, speak , read and write, in multiple Low Valyrian dialects, including Braavosi, Lorathi, Lysene, Myrish, Pentoshi, Tyroshi and Volentene. While he couldn’t read or write them, he could speak and understand Dothraki, and Lhazar. He could however read and write Qarthoki but not speak it, the exceedingly unique language difficult for him to wrap his tongue around. 

Viserys stepped in close behind Daenerys and Jaehaerys, his breath running along the sides of their necks. 

“Do you see how long his hair is? When Dothraki are defeated in combat, they cut off their braid so the whole world can see their shame. Khal Drogo has never been defeated. He’s a savage, of course, but he’s one of the finest killers alive. And you will be his queen,” Viserys said. 

“Come forward my dear,” Illyrio called out to Daenerys. As Daenerys made her way towards Illyrio, her eyes remained locked on the Khal. Jaehaerys could sense the fear in his twin but she kept moving. He went to walk forward with her in support but Viserys caught him with an arm around his waist. 

“He will give me an army,” Viserys whispered in Jaehaerys’s ear as he pressed up behind him, “And when I sit upon my throne, you will be by my side. Until that day you will remain pure, untouched even by me, and only when the crown sits upon my head will I take you and make your body what it always was,” Viserys continued biting at Jaehaerys’s ear while Jaehaerys remained frozen in fear. “Mine.”

Suddenly the Dothraki wheeled away causing Viserys to release Jaehaerys and rush forward towards Illyrio.

“Where’s he going?” Viserys said his voice sounding mad and his eyes wild. 

“The ceremony is over,” Illyrio said placatingly. 

“But he didn’t say anything. Did he like her?” Viserys said wildly.

“Trust me, Your Grace. If he didn’t like her, we’d know,” Illyrio said.

\-------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys sat nervously ten feet away from where his sister sat as one of the ‘guests of honor’ beside the Khal who was now her husband. Jaehaerys winced as two of the Dothraki began fighting; fighting over the omega woman one of them had been fucking. Illyrio and Viserys were talking above where Jaehaerys sat and Jaehaerys wanted to slap his brother when he spoke of pissing on Dothraki omens. If Viserys truly found the Dothraki as despicable as he seemed to, why had he married their sister off to the man that was supposedly the worst of them? Surely they could find an army elsewhere. 

“I’m going to give Daenerys and her Husband my gift,” Jaehaerys said suddenly standing pulling the two cloth wrapped objects he had spent almost every coin he’d ever earned and saved by secretly sneaking into the cities they’d lived to heal the sick, always covering his hair and his face with a scarf so that no one would know who he was. 

“Of course Jaehaerys,” Viserys said softly with a smile. “You always were the sweetest of us,” he continued placing a soft kiss to Jaehaerys’s forehead. It was times like this when Viserys was kind and sweet that Jaehaerys for a moment forget the madness that lurked within his brother, rising out only to cause pain. 

Jaehaerys was proud that he didn’t tremble as he stepped onto the platform that his twin and her husband sat upon. He didn’t know how his sister was sitting straight backed and strong beside this Alpha. Jaehaerys had never felt overwhelmed by an Alpha’s scent like this before. It took a moment for Jaehaerys to clear his brain of the Alpha pheromones. 

“Sister,” Jaehaerys said as he went down on one knee setting one of the wrapped packages to the ground before unwrapping the other, letting the gauzy white fabric flutter to the ground. “I purchased as many small pieces of valyrian steel as I could to have it made, broaches, chain links, pins anything. It will never replace mothers but I wanted you to have something that she would have given to you had she been here,” Jaehaerys said lifting the lid to the beautifully polished box. Inside on a soft looking light blue pillow sat a silver valyrian steel circlet, in the center if came around to a downward point with a thumbnail sized amethyst set into it. Apart from the single stone the circlet was unadorned; instead Jaehaerys had directed the blacksmith to etch a design into the metal. The design was in all High Valyrian runes of healing and clearness of mind. Daenerys had never displayed the madness Viserys had but the runes would be beneficial even if she never did. 

“Jaehaerys,” Daenerys said with tears in her eyes but a smile on her face as she gently removed the circlet from the box. The box itself was taken from him by an Alpha man who seemed to be Westerosi in origin and set to the side where other gifts had gone. Daenerys, finished looking at the detail in the metalwork turned the circlet and set it upon her head. Jaehaerys was happy that the fit seemed to be correct, and that the shape seemed to look well upon her. “Thank-you, it is beautiful,” she said before leaning down to kiss Jaehaerys on the cheek, as she sat back down Jaehaerys turned to the Khal.

The gift Jaehaerys had gotten Khal Drogo was not as well thought out as Daenerys had been but Jaehaerys hadn’t known near as much about the man as he did his sister. Knowing however, of the warlike tendencies of the Dothraki and their favored weapon of an arakh Jaehaerys had had one made with the left over valyrian steel he’d had. There hadn’t been enough for the blade to be made completely from valyrian steel so instead the blacksmith had made the blade from regular castle steel before coating the entire blade with the valyrian steel. It wouldn’t be as strong as a full valyrian steel blade, but it wouldn’t need sharpening as it would never dull. 

“Great Khal of the Dothraki Grass Sea, I congratulate you on your marriage to my sister, and hope this gift finds you always in good health,” Jaehaerys said speaking in the rough guttural language of the horse tribes, as he unwrapped the rougher cloth covering his second gift and revealed the arakh. For a moment the Khal was silent, before he stood, towering over Jaehaerys and took the blade from Jaehaerys’s hands. The Khal tested the grip and gave it a slow backhanded swing checking the balance. 

“Good blade,” the Khal finally said after a long moment of silence. Jaehaerys gave him a quick nod and a final glance with a smile towards his sister before he removed himself from the platform hurrying to sit back down with his brother. Viserys may have been mad but he was the devil Jaehaerys knew, Jaehaerys would eventually have to work through his fear of the Dothraki people but right now he just wanted to be back in the manse curled around his sister as she stroked his hair. At least there even if Viserys was nearby, they were safe and happy.


	6. Dragon Eggs and Visons

The wedding continued on, fucking and killing happening all around them. Viserys had left early to go back to the manse, leaving Jaehaerys to debate whether he wanted to go as well or stay. Eventually Jaehaerys had voted to stay, fearing being alone with Viserys far more than being amidst the Dothraki people. He had a small knife on him. It wasn’t much and he’d never truly be able to fight a Dothraki man off if one attacked him but a single lucky shot at the cock or throat would be much more damaging with a knife than without. 

“I think I shall be following your example now young Jaehaerys,” Illyrio said patting Jaehaerys’s shoulder before directing with hand motions for a slave to pick up the chest that had been at Illyrio’s feet, and follow the man up to the platform that held the newlyweds. As the slave carrying the chest passed Jaehaerys, Jaehaerys’s vision flickered and went black. To anyone outwardly watching, Jaehaerys seemed to have a dreamy look on his face and nothing seemed to be wrong, on the inside however there was turmoil.

____________________________________VISION___________________________________________

Varys softly padded through the tunnels of the Red Keep, although very few knew of them, or yet, how to navigate them it was always safer to be cautious, especially in such troubling times as these. His plans with his half-brother Illyrio were already on track. The Targaryen Dragons needed to be thinned out, particularly Viserys. Not only was the boy a threat to Young Griff’s throne but the boy also displayed the same madness that had led the realm of Westeros to a war that had only ended sixteen short years ago. The girl, Daenerys according to Illyrio was less meek than, even if only barely than her twin Jaehaerys seemed to be. The girl was more likely to speak out against Viserys, than Jaehaerys was, most likely because Viserys’s attention seemed to remain on his Omega brother more often than his Omega sister. Regardless of the reason it only served to make Jaehaerys a better candidate for marriage to Aegon. Varys may have been born in slavery and poverty, just as his half-brother had but he would see his family rise to where they were always meant to be. The Blackfyres would rule an empire that would rival what even the Targaryen’s had once had, especially with the North finally rising to the occasion. 

Varys wasn’t able to get the most complete reports from the North, but he did know along with most of Westeros that they had a very healthy economy based upon the export of fine lumber, unlike the majority of Westeros he also knew of the building of the Moat Cailen Canal. It was a worthy project. One that would likely be finished before the King returned with Lord Stark as his hand to King’s Landing. Varys seriously doubted the canal was Lord Starks idea however, all reports held the man as moderately intelligent. He had probably found plans his father or brother had made before being burned alive and simply put them to action.

“Varys,” a slimily smooth voice called out to him from a few meters to his right. Varys didn’t bother turning. “What a surprise to find you here, in the sewers, one might think you were a rat, rather than a spider,” Petyr Baelish said. Varys didn’t bother to turn to face his companion. 

“I suppose, some might think that, but then again, there are those that think you more a gutter snake than a mockingbird. Are they right I wonder?” Varys asked.

“If they were intelligent, they would know that I am far more dangerous than a mere gutter snake,” Petyr said. 

“Perhaps,” answered Varys. “But Wolves tend to not be very fearful of snakes, especially those dressed as mockingbirds. In fact I’ve heard they tend to bite, and rather viciously at that.”

Much of the kingdom knew of the dislike between Stark Lord and the Master of Coin. Their tension had come to a head during the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Lord Baelish had suggested that the North begin paying a higher tax to the Crown since they seemed to be doing so much better in terms of economy as of late. Eddard had negotiated King Robert down to a modest but still fair sum for tax and Baelish had continued pressing. Lord Stark had revealed ability long thought lost to Alpha’s, the Alpha voice. Rumors held out that his son had the ability as well, but nothing had been confirmed for Varys. Despite being rather primitive still in consideration to the rest of the kingdoms the North had lost him an inordinate amount of ‘little birds’. 

“Perhaps they do, but I rather guess that the wolves will be far more wary of the death of a certain Arryn,” Petyr said. “It would seem he found out about the pureness of a few lion cubs.”

“That is most likely,” Varys said. 

“The wolves at the throats of lions, I wonder who will rise to the top?” Baelish asked before leaving on his way. Varys still had his suspicions. He doubted that the lions had been the one to poison the late Hand but he had no definitive proof, only suspicion and circumstance. The Queen certainly could have had the man poisoned but for all of her brashness that she so habitually displayed, she was more intelligent than she so often seemed. She’d have made sure that it was an accident, a fall down the stairs perhaps, not a poisoning, even if Grandmaester Pycelle had declared it a natural death. An accident was less likely to draw attention than a poisoning disguised as a sickness. Then there was the speed in which Lady Arryn had withdrawn to the Vale. 

Her husband’s body wasn’t even cold before she had left the city with her boy, leaving behind her husband’s body despite the tradition of the Arryns to entomb the bones of each Lord Arryn in the mausoleum within the Eyrie. That coupled with Petyr’s smugness for days after the events led Varys to believe that it was perchance Lady Arryn at the behest of the Small Council’s very own Master of Coin who had poisoned their Lord Hand. Nonetheless it didn’t matter now, there was no proof and Jon Arryn’s body was in the ground. All Varys could do now was ensure the Kingdom stayed stable just a little while longer. The Blackfyre Rebellion, which would be disguised as a Targaryen Reclamation was not ready just yet, and Varys couldn’t afford for any of his or his brother’s plans to fall apart, not now, not when they were so close to their goals. 

The slapping of soft soled shoes on slightly damp ground had Varys pausing to look down one tunnel. Obviously one of his little birds was not well versed in the art of stealth and subtlety, he’d have to address that. A young boy, mayhap six name days entered Varys’s field of vison. He was clutching something in his hand, and wordlessly passed it over to Varys before disappearing back down the tunnel. It took Varys but a moment to read the message it held before he was squatting down dipping the parchment into the small stream of water, letting the ink run and the parchment slowly dissolve. 

Daenerys Targaryen was scheduled to marry the Dothraki Khal Illyrio had found. With the whole of the Golden Company behind Aegon, they could marry Jaehaerys to Illyrio’s boy bringing his sister’s husband’s Khalasar into the fold. It would be perhaps the greatest army Westeros had ever seen. For now though Varys had to keep the secret of the royal bastards from their new Hand and the King. 

________________________________END VISION___________________________________________

Jaehaerys came out of his vison suddenly when a hand touched lightly to his shoulder.

“Prince Jaehaerys, are you well?” The Westerosi man Jaehaerys had glimpsed earlier when he’d given his gifts to the newlyweds. “Your sister has already left with the Khal, and your brother left earlier I believe.”

“My apologies Ser, I am well, merely lost in thought,” Jaehaerys said. “You are from Westeros, my home, yes?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“Aye, I am, though I will likely never see it again,” the knight said. 

“Why is that, Ser… Forgive me I know not your name,” Jaehaerys said as the Westerosi sat beside him. 

“Jorah, of the House Mormont, though my father most likely disowned me for my crimes when I fled,” Jorah said.

“May I ask what crimes those were, Ser Jorah?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“The crime of being blindly in love,” Jorah answered. “I married far above my station. House Mormont may be one of the larger Houses of the North but in comparison to the rest of Westeros we are very low on the pole. When my wife, used to living a more lavish lifestyle than the one I could provide demanded more, I sold poachers I had caught on my lands to slavers, hoping that the money I had made would satisfy my wife. In the end it was for naught, she came with me when I fled Westeros but later left me for a wealthy pirate. Now I’m here, simply a mercenary. The Khal allows me to travel with him because of my ability to translate, something that will not be necessary when it comes to you,” Jorah continued. 

“Yes, I know the Dothraki language among others, though my siblings do not. Fear not for your job Ser Jorah, you are still needed,” Jaehaerys said, with a soft smile. For a moment they sat in silence, watching as the wedding celebrations went on despite the fact that the newlyweds had already left. 

“I think, I would like to return to Illyrio’s manse, may I ask for you to escort me Ser Jorah?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“It would be my pleasure, Prince Jaehaerys,” Jorah said standing and offering his arm. Jaehaerys stood and took it, before they left Jaehaerys looked once more to the chest Illyrio had presented to his sister. He’d been too enthralled in his vision to see what had been in them earlier and he peered at the contents now. Within the pillow padded chest sat three oval items. It took Jaehaerys but a moment to recognize them for what they were. Jaehaerys vision clouded for a moment and he saw three dragons soaring in the sky, not large enough to be fully grown but not newly hatched either. The vision only lasted a few moments however as it was interrupted by Jorah ordering a few of the Khalasar’s slaves to bring Daenerys’s gifts to the Khal’s tents, not nearly long enough for Jaehaerys to tell if it was a vision of the past or of the future. 

Their walk through the city from the cliffs that overlooked the city and the sea where the wedding had been held was quiet as neither of them spoke. As they neared the walls of Illyrio’s manse Jaehaerys broke the silence. 

“Do you regret it?” Jaehaerys asked, “Not the selling of the slaves, I can already tell you regret that, but falling in love so deeply you forgot every other duty?” Jaehaerys asked. Ser Jorah didn’t answer right away, taking a moment to mull over Jaehaerys’s question. 

“Yes, and yet no,” Ser Jorah finally said. “I regret giving my heart to a woman who never cared for me the way I had for her. But do I regret loving someone with everything I was? No, and I don’t think I ever could,” Ser Jorah said as they approached the guarded gates of the manse. 

“Thank-you Ser Jorah, for your escort and your candor,” Jaehaerys said. 

“As I said earlier Prince Jaehaerys; It was my pleasure,” Ser Jorah answered lifting and kissing the back of Jaehaerys’s hand, before leaving, walking back down into the city streets. Jaehaerys lifted his face to look at the balcony of the manse. Viserys stood there watching him. Jaehaerys suppressed a shiver. From the look on Viserys’s face that Jaehaerys could see from here, his brother was not happy that Jaehaerys had walked on the arm of a strange Alpha, and he’d be paying for the supposed slight soon.


	7. Chapter Six: Hand of the King

Eddard Stark didn’t know what to do. His father would have, or his brother, but he didn’t. Robert had asked him to become the Hand of the King, an honor truly, but there was Jon to think about. He was caught in a game between two Kings, one of which was family. Eddard sighed; he knew what he had to do, he had already decided earlier when negotiating with Robert, he merely had to convince himself. He was a Stark and he knew their words; Winter is Coming. 

“When winter comes, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” Eddard whispered into the cold and silent night before he turned to make his way to his rooms; family came first always, he would protect his pack. He had asked for each of his children including Rickon to be brought to his and Catelyn’s rooms, as well as maester Luwin. The decisions that followed wouldn’t only affect him but them as well, and it was time for Rickon to be brought into the fold and know the secrets of their pack. 

“Father,” Sansa greeted when Eddard entered. He closed the door firmly behind him. Upon the recommendation of Lord Reed Eddard had replaced all of the doors in Winterfell with the hollow wood before stuffing the inside with gritty sand, to sound proof every room. Without a word Robb packed a fur into the small crack at the bottom of the door further ensuring that the room was sound proofed. 

“Sit all of you,” Eddard ordered. Each of his children found a place to sit. Rob in the chair opposite where his mother sat with Rickon on her lap the four wolves resting at their feet, maester Luwin on the trunk at the end of Lord and Lady Stark’s bed, while Sansa and Arya sat upon the bed itself legs entwined. The two girls were very close in private though they portrayed a strained barely there, relationship in public. It had started as an exercise in acting set by Ser Arthur and Lord Reed almost three years ago when Arya was nine and Sansa was twelve but it had morphed into a continuous game to keep up their skills. It helped that they had very obviously different tastes in activities.

“Rickon,” Eddard called to his youngest boy. 

“Yes Father?” his childish voice asked. 

“You need to listen carefully okay?” Eddard said. “Nothing that we say here can ever be repeated alright?” 

“Like a secret?” Rickon asked. 

“Exactly like a secret,” Eddard answered. Rickon nodded his understanding as he wiggled from his mother’s to be set on the ground. He cuddled in close to his wolf, Shaggy Dog where the now adult hound sized wolf pup lay basking with his pack mates in the warmth by the fire. 

“Robert asked me to be his hand as we all knew he would, but there is more,” Eddard said. “He also wishes to betroth his eldest son and heir to Sansa.” Robb audibly growled at the suggestion. “He wishes for Prince Tommon to be betrothed to our family as well, he suggested Bran, but as Bran is already promised to Jorjen Reed that was not possible. Of course he then settled down to Arya,” Eddard continued. Arya began to make protest, but quieted when her father held up his hand. “I convinced him that would be a thoroughly atrocious idea, and that Arya would be far better marrying within the North or possibly within Dorne as the rules and restrictions in both kingdoms are far less concerning women. I’ll be bringing Arya so that I may be able to broker such a marriage with Dorne. He settled on Rickon.” Catelyn gasped. 

“Rickon will not be going south,” Catelyn said her tone firm. 

“No,” Lord Stark said, “He will not, I convinced the King that as I was already taking two of your children south with me, and the fact that Bran has had his first heat and will soon reside within Greywater Keep, that it would be far better to leave Tommon here under your motherly wing, to keep you happy of course. He agreed, although I highly doubt the Queen will be very happy about it,” Eddard continued. 

“That’s smart, to every other House it will seem to be simply a double marriage alliance, but to the House that it will really matter, the Lannisters, we will have one of their own as a hostage. It should serve to make them behave while we are in King’s Landing,” said Sansa ever the most politically inclined. Out of all of Eddard’s children, she was the most highly suited to survive the snake pit that was King’s Landing. 

“I’m glad you approve,” Lord Stark said. “Though I do not like betrothing you to Crown Prince Joffrey, Lord Reed alerted me of some very unsavory whispers about him,” Eddard continued. 

“I’ll be playing the naïve, little girl besotted idea of becoming the Queen father, I’ll give him no reason to harm me,” Sansa said. Eddard sighed.

“I’ll be relying on you and your sister, to watch and listen, you will have to see and hear the things that I cannot. They think you two little girls who know not the way of the world. Lord Reed assured me that little of the North and her secrets has travelled south of the Neck, you will have clean slates in which to create your personas something I know you both enjoy,” Eddard said. 

“I’ll be playing the wild one to your demure, sister,” Arya said. 

“Oooh that’s always fun,” Sansa said with an evil grin that looked so out of place on her sweet face. Eddard sighed again. His children became more like his siblings had been every day.

“Now, my Lady Wife, we should speak of your sister’s letter,” Eddard said.

\-----------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys sweated in his clothes atop the horse he rode. He knew what was coming; it was too similar to what Daenerys had displayed in her pre-heat for it to be anything else. His sister hadn’t yet noticed though she rode beside him, and neither had his brother. Jaehaerys was a mixture of wanting Viserys to help him through his heat and wanting him far away. The first was simply his hormones, the second was his logic. Still he had hoped it wouldn’t happen, but no, just over a month into their ride as part of the Khalasar, only recently turning away from the lands near Pentos to ride to the single Dothraki city Vaes Dothrak, and it was coming.

“You need to drink, child. And eat,” Ser Jorah said to his sister. Jaehaerys had been following that advice, drinking thoroughly from his waterskin and eating the little dried fruit he had packed for himself. He didn’t mind the taste of the smoked horsemeat but he could tell it quickly grew monotonous. He needed the food and energy for what was coming though.

“Isn't there anything else?” Daenerys asked. Obviously his sister was already of the same mind concerning the horsemeat.

“The Dothraki have two things in abundance; grass and horses. People can't live on grass. In the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there, are fields of ghost grass with stalks as pale as milk that glow in the night. It murders all other grass. The Dothraki believe that one day it will cover everything. That's the way the world will end. It'll get easier,” Ser Jorah said before falling back a little to ride beside Viserys, as they were only just approaching where they would make camp for the evening.

“We're still not far from Pentos, your Grace. Magister Illyrio has extended his hospitality. You'd be more comfortable there,” Ser Jorah said. 

“I have no interest in hospitality or comfort. I'll stay with Drogo until he fulfils his end of the bargain and I have my crown, and neither would I let my sweet Omega brother stay with such savages alone, and he couldn’t bear to be torn from our sister,” Viserys said. His brother said it as though he had simply given in to the whims, but Jaehaerys had worn the bruises on his legs for hours until he was able to leave Viserys and heal them. Viserys had hit the back of them with a switch after ordering Jaehaerys to lie across the table. While it had been painful Jaehaerys knew had he refused to submit it would have been far worse, at least he could heal a few bruises. He’d also beaten Jaehaerys again during the lunch hour when Daenerys had asked for them to break their lunch with her though Jaehaerys had healed those bruises too. 

“As you wish, your Grace.” Ser Jorah said. 

“Well, Mormont, as brutish as this life is, I suppose it is preferable to beheading. What did Ned Stark want you for ? Buying from a slaver ?” Viserys asked as everyone began to dismount. Daenerys’s hands were badly blistered from holding the reins, as were Jaehaerys though they weren’t near as bad as they had been the first few days. Each day they were getting better, the blisters hardening more into calluses. Normally Jaehaerys would rush to heal Daenerys within the safety of her tent but instead he moved slowly, as he healed his own, and soothed the muscles in his legs. He needed to save his energy. 

“Selling to one... Some poachers I caught on my land,” Ser Jorah said giving Viserys the shorter version of the answer he had given Jaehaerys only a few short days ago.

“Under my reign, you won't be punished for such nonsense. You can rest assured of that,” Viserys said, before Jaehaerys could hear no more having entered Daenerys tent. 

“Jaehaerys,” Daenerys said from the tub she was in, “What is wrong?” 

“It’s come, Dany,” Jaehaerys said his face lowered to the ground. “I’m scared. He almost wouldn’t let Illyrio’s heat slave help you through yours, he definitely won’t let anyone help me through mine. He already told me he wants me to be completely pure.” Daenerys rose from the bathwater, and her servants quickly helped her dry herself and become clothed. 

“He is not King here brother,” Daenerys said causing Jaehaerys’s head to whip up. “He is not, but I am Khalessi. Jorah told me that means Queen, here in the Great Grass Sea, I out rank him.” His sister was dressed in the Dothraki fashion. Jaehaerys had already heard of Viserys’s attempts to hit her at lunch and his rants about the savages not knowing their place during his beating but to see her already take upon the mantle of a Queen of her people, a khalessi, since she had known she was pregnant, it gave him courage to stand on his own as well. He couldn’t wait to meet his young niece or nephew. “Irri, would you tell my husband that my brother will need a tent of his own, and several guards?” Daenerys said before turning to Jaehaerys, “Do you think that your heat will come tonight?” She asked. Jaehaerys nodded.

“No, it is not near as bad as what yours was yet, perhaps tomorrow?” Jaehaerys said. 

“I will find someone to spend it with you, someone who is not our brother,” Daenerys said and Jaehaerys breathed a sigh of relief. “Come now, we should go to the main tent. My husband will be waiting, and you can eat,” Daenerys continued. Jaehaerys believed that perhaps that Daenerys’s marriage and subsequent pregnancy by Khal Drogo was perhaps the best thing to happen to him and his twin. He followed behind his sister who was not yet showing as they made their way to the main tent, where everyone would eat together, and there would be entertainment. 

\--------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys was happily eating the bowl sweet fruits one of the Khal’s bloodrider’s had provided for him at the orders of his sister, when Viserys seemingly drunk burst angrily into the tent ranting. 

“Daenerys!” Viserys shouted and Jaehaerys stiffened. A drunk Viserys was a violent one. “Where's my sister? Where is my brother?” Viserys asked even as Jaehaerys attempted to shrink into the shadows. Ser Jorah stood from where he’d been having a conversation with Daenerys to intercept Viserys. “Where is she? Where is she?” Viserys asked turning around and around looking for Daenerys. “I'm here for the feast. The whore's feast? She invited me, doesn’t she remember? She presumed to order me! I am King,” Viserys said ignoring Ser Jorah and moving past him. Ser Jorah attempted to stop the drunk Targaryen by grasping at his shoulder.

“Come,” Ser Jorah said. Viserys turned with a sneer and pushed Ser Jorah’s hand away. 

“Get your hands off me! No one touches the Dragon!” Viserys screeched. The Khal laughed with his blood riders, causing Viserys’s attention to fall to him. “Khal Drogo! I'm here for the feast.”

“Your seat is outside with the slaves, you are not a guest of honor,” Khal Drogo said in Dothraki. Jaehaerys had been teaching Daenerys the language as had Ser Jorah, Viserys however had rejected Jaehaerys’s offer so the Omega knew his brother did not understand a single thing the Khal had just said. 

“Khal Drogo says there is a place for you,” Ser Jorah translated pointing behind them outside of the tent, “Back there.”

“That is no place for a King,” Viserys said protesting. 

“You are no King,” the Khal suddenly said surprising Jaehaerys. He had not realized the Khal could speak the common. Angrily Viserys drew his sword, again Jorah tried to intercept him but Viserys pointed at the Westerosi knight.

“Keep away from me!” Viserys yelled and from where Jaehaerys was hiding in the shadows he could both see and hear the madness breaking free, of its constraints. Jaehaerys watches as Irri begins translating to the Khal not noticing the two blood riders who are making their way around Viserys as he continues ranting screaming about his crown. Then Jaehaerys’s blood froze when Viserys threatened to cut out Daenerys’s child.

Finally Khal Drogo spoke, guttural and deep and a thrill ran through Jaehaerys. 

“What did he say?” Viserys asked. Jaehaerys found the strength to speak.

“He said yes,” Jaehaerys was proud his voice didn’t waver, “You shall have a golden crown….,” Jaehaerys translated leaving out the part about it being molten. “That men tremble to behold.” Viserys smiled at Jaehaerys before facing the Khal who had risen and touching Daenerys’s belly before turning to Viserys just as the two bloodrider’s who had slipped around the commotion came up from behind Viserys gripping him. Jaehaerys flinched at the resounding crack that filled the air when one of the bloodrider’s broke his brother’s bone. 

“No! You cannot touch me!” Viserys began screaming, as they pulled him closer to the center of the tent but the bloodrider’s ignored him. “I am the Dragon! I'm a dragon! I want my crown!” Viserys continued screeching loudly. Jaehaerys caught his sisters eye and nodded before slowly making his way around to her. Drogo spoke again in dothraki, and his men pushed Viserys to the ground, still holding him, as Jaehaerys reached Daenerys. Khal Drogo shifted over to a pot with hot water in it on above a fire. He empties it and throws the gold chains that had encircled his waist inside. 

“Look away, Khaleesi, my prince,” Jorah begged. Jaehaerys didn’t answer just continued watching.

“No,” Daenerys said. Viserys looked towards the pot Drogo threw gold the chains in, in horror only just realizing the true danger he’d put himself in. He turned to look at his siblings fear and hope etched equally on his face.

“Dany, Jae, tell them. Make them! Make them...” He begged and Jaehaerys shivered. Daenerys took Jaehaerys’s hand into her own steadying him even as he steadied her. Viserys turned back to the Khal once more demanding, “No, you can't!” and then back to his siblings to beg, “Dany, Jae, please!” Each and every phantom bruise Jaehaerys had ever healed on his body flared in a single moment before dying down as Jaehaerys firmed his trembling lips and watched as Khal Drogo picked up the pot and walked towards his brother. 

“A crown for a King,” the Khal stated loudly and Jaehaerys squeezed his sisters hand as the pot was tipped over Viserys’s head coating it with the molten liquid metal. Drogo crouched down to look at Viserys’s face as he screamed before he suddenly went silent and the bloodrider’s released him, letting his body thump against the ground as the gold hardened.

“Khalessi, my prince,” Jorah began attempting to be soothing. 

“He was no Dragon,” Daenerys said unflinchingly and Jaehaerys looked towards her and they said the words their brother had said to them both a million times before together. 

“Fire cannot kill a dragon,” they intoned.


	8. King's Road and Dragon Heats

Arya mounted her horse with her brother’s help; she was still just a little too short to reach the stirrup of the saddle on her own, but Robb was easily able to create a step with his hands to give her a boost. It had been almost a week since the King and his entourage had arrived at Winterfell but they were already leaving. The Queen had thrown a fit the night before in a last ditch effort to have her youngest child return to King’s Landing with her. Unfortunately for her the King had not budged in his decision and although Prince Tommon was sad to be parted with his mother he seemed to be ecstatic about the fact that not only would he get to stay with his, currently best friend and betrothed, though neither truly knew what that meant, Rickon, and that he would also be out of reach of his brother Crown Prince Joffrey.

Sansa was to be riding in the Queen’s wheelhouse with her companion Jayne Poole, the Queen and her daughter. While Sansa was supposedly getting to know her soon to be good mother and good sister her true motivation was to listen and watch the Queen for anything that might link her or her family to the death of Lord Arryn. Lady Lysa, had sent word that she believed that the Lannister’s had been behind the death of her husband and Sansa’s mother, Lady Lysa’s sister, was certain that her sister would not have risked sending word unless she was certain, the risk was too high for anything less.

“Arya,” Robb said once she was properly situated on her horse. Arya looked down towards him. He held a long thin package in his hand. “Jon would have wanted to give it too you himself, it was supposed to be for your name-day, but with you going to the capital… Well I think he’d want you to have it before you went,” Robb said passing the package up to his sister. Carefully she grasped it, and quickly she unwrapped the burlap. Inside was a beautifully wrought small sword, in its sheath. She drew it and gasped at the signature whorls in the blade marking it as valyrian steel. 

“It’s beautiful,” Arya said. 

“Jon already convinced father to find someone to teach you how to wield,” Robb said. “They’ll probably be Dornish or perhaps Braavosi, somewhere that allows women to fight, the blade is made for those with small builds, like you,” Robb continued. Arya smiled and quickly placed the sword on his belt. 

“Thanks Robb,” Arya said looking down fondly at the sword on her waist. 

“Now you really look the part of a warrior,” Robb said. “At this rate you might even become a knight before me. Ser Arya,” Robb huffed a chuckle, “How’s that sound?” 

“Wonderful,” Arya said grinning down at her brother. “Give my thanks to Jon when he returns, and tell Bran I miss him,” Arya said doing her best to lean down and give her brother a hug despite the fact that she was on a horse. Robb chuckled again but did his best to reciprocate. 

“I will, and Arya?” Robb said.

“Yeah?” Arya asked.

“Protect your sister, she’s smart but sometimes she still underestimates people,” Robb said before lowering his voice, “I don’t trust the Crown Prince not to hurt her.” 

“I will brother, I promise,” Arya said. “I don’t trust him either.”

“Good, you should get going else they’ll leave without you,” Robb said. 

“I’ll miss you!” Arya called as she pushed her horse to trot towards where Lord Stark rode beside the King. 

“And I you little sister,” Robb called back. 

\------------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------

“Omega come,” the Dothraki man said to Jaehaerys in the common long after Viserys’s body had been taken away. Jaehaerys rose from where he’d been seated and followed the young Dothraki man as he was led to a tent. “Khalessi say….” The man paused scrunching up his face trying to find the word. 

“I can speak your language,” Jaehaerys said in Dothraki, causing the young man to light up for a moment. 

“Queen arranged for you to have this tent, for your heat. You stay here with heat mate, and ride to catch up with Khalasar when heat is finished. The Khalasar will not wait. Queen ordered some of the slaves and guards to stay, to serve and protect you and your heat mate,” the man said in Dothraki. 

“Thank-you,” Jaehaerys said in the common before switching back to Dothraki, “Do you know who she has arranged for my heat mate to be?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“That would be me Prince Jaehaerys,” Ser Jorah said from behind him causing Jaehaerys to turn. Ser Jorah was approaching the tent, he carried a large flask that he took a drink from and seemed to empty. “That was the last of the moon root tea,” Ser Jorah said. “It’ll prevent me from impregnating you,” Ser Jorah said. “I also have a mouth guard, you do not have to fear for me bonding you against your will,” Jorah continued. 

“I know,” Jaehaerys said. “Thank-you,” Jaehaerys said with a slightly red face.

“Before I became a sellsword, I found work as a heat-partner,” Ser Jorah said, setting a hand on Jaehaerys’s shoulder and steering him to enter the tent. The Dothraki gave Ser Jorah a nod, before leaving. 

“You are nervous,” Ser Jorah said scenting the air as Jaehaerys sat on the large bed that had been set up at the back center of the tent. 

“Yes,” Jaehaerys said. “Wouldn’t you be?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“Yes, I suppose I would,” Ser Jorah said, before either of them could say anything else two Dothraki men carried in a large metal tub and set it to the floor. Several Omega slaves brought in pails of heated water filling the tub up before leaving. 

“I thought that perhaps a bath might help you relax,” Jorah said. 

“Thank-you for your kindness,” Jaehaerys said nervously. Objectively he knew from the memories of his time as Harry, that sex could be very pleasurable. However, he’d never had sex with a man. Ronald had killed him shortly after he’d realized he was gay and had subsequently broken things off with Ginerva Weasely, Ronald’s sister. The only experiences he had with the touch of another man had been his brother, and while not explicitly sexual, it was always painful. 

Slowly Jaehaerys slid off his tunic, Viserys had refused to allow Jaehaerys to even think of dressing like one of the Dothraki. Jaehaerys could see Ser Jorah’s nostrils flare as the man caught the full scent of the Omega Prince’s preheat, and shivered. Jaehaerys continued undressing, still sitting upon the bed, removing his boots before standing and slowly unlacing his leggings. Rather than putting it off, Jaehaerys removed both his leggings and small pants in one go. Ser Jorah’s eyes traveled the length of his body causing Jaehaerys to nervously place his hands in front of his crotch, removing the sight of his six inch cock nestled in silver curls from view. 

Jaehaerys fought not to flinch or step backwards as Ser Jorah stepped up close to him. The Alpha gently pulled Jaehaerys’s hands away from covering himself. 

“Don’t hide yourself my Prince,” Jorah whispered. “You need not, you are beautiful.” Ser Jorah gently led Jaehaerys to the tub and steadied him as the Omega stepped into the water and then sank down into the warmth with a sigh. Ser Jorah dipped a cloth into the water that was not quite too warm and wet it before gently ran it along the prince’s jawline. Jaehaerys relaxed as Ser Jorah gently cleaned him and the warm water soothed the last of any soreness that lingered in his muscles. The water began to turn cool and Jorah coaxed the half asleep prince from it, drying him off with a soft fur before leading him to the bed and tucking him in still naked.

Jaehaerys fell asleep long before Ser Jorah had undressed himself using the wet cloth and water to quickly clean himself before strapping the leather mouth guard onto his face. Other than inbetween heat waves when they eat the guard would remain on to minimize the amount of temptation. As it covered the entire lower half of his face excluding his nose and the small open strips for breathing, he would be unable to use his mouth in any of Jaehaerys’s pleasure, including kissing. If his unguarded mouth ever went to close to the bonding gland on the right side of the prince’s neck there was a possibility that Ser Jorah might lose self-control and bite down. Many Alphas and even Betas did. Therefore the leather bond guard was necessary. Jorah slipped into the bed, equally as naked as the prince and slid right up behind the smaller body wrapping an arm around him to spoon before he too fell to the whims of sleep. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys woke aching and sweaty. He was leaking slick and couldn’t help but whimper as he arched into the body that was plastered to his back. With a grunt Ser Jorah woke behind him, a single sniff telling him all he needed to know. The prince’s heat had begun. With a muffled growl, Ser Jorah’s hand slid down through the sweat of Jaehaerys’s body past his cock to slide into his sopping crack. Jaehaerys moaned trying to wiggle and get the knight’s fingers where he wanted them. With another growl Jorah rolled them so Jaehaerys was on his stomach with Jorah straddling his legs. Instinctively Jaehaerys did his best to present. 

One of Jorah’s hands slid up Jaehaerys’s spine pushing it down even as Jaehaerys tried to lift his ass further. The Omega mewled as Jorah slid a finger into the leaking hole with little resistance. The hand on Jaehaerys’s spine pushed firmer and Jorah growled as Jaehaerys pushed back when Jorah added a second finger. Jaehaerys wanted, no, he needed more and he whined, causing Jorah to suddenly go into frenzy. 

Jaehaerys had no idea he had just demonstrated the ability to draw upon the Omega Whine, all he knew was that his body was hot and he craved a knot right fucking now. He pushed back onto the fingers that were quickly scissoring him, not even caring of the slight pain they were causing. Suddenly the fingers were gone and he whined again, the sound was quickly punched out of him when Jorah entered his hole and thrust in deep. Jorah stayed still for a moment pulling Jaehaerys up so he was kneeling and leaning back into his chest. 

Jaehaerys shook in pleasure and want as Jorah growled the sound muffled but directly over his bond gland, causing him to whine again. Jorah thrust in hard hitting a spot in Jaehaerys that had him scream before gasping trying to find the air as he was pushed down and fucked into. Jaehaerys gripped at the furs as his hips stuttered trying to meet the quick punishing thrusts of Ser Jorah above him as he muffled his screams and pants into the fur covered mattress. Jaehaerys came like a freight train but even as his ass clenched at the cock pounding into him Jorah kept thrusting causing Jaehaerys to shake, as it extended his orgasm and took all of his energy causing him to lay limply as the Westerosi Alpha continued screwing him. His gasps became breathless and his screams soundless as the Alpha continued pounding, mind clouded by the instinctual need to breed. Finally Jaehaerys could feel the slight catch of Ser Jorah’s knot as he thrust in and out a few more times before becoming locked together. The warmth of the Alpha’s semen becoming the only thing warmth in Jaehaerys’s body as the first heat wave passed. 

Jaehaerys groaned as his cock twitched and he came again when Ser Jorah shifted them so that he didn’t lay the entirety of his weight against the prince. Jaehaerys pressed back into the warm skin of the Alpha still locked in him shivering slightly. Ser Jorah wrapped an arm around the prince’s belly feeling the taught skin, his hand seaming to sear a mark into the Omega despite the fact that Jaehaerys was immune to fire. The heat and ache that had seemingly been there only minutes ago had subsided and Jaehaerys couldn’t help sinking back into sleep even as the Alpha’s knot remained locked inside him. 

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys shivered even as he leaned back into Jorah. The Alpha was locked inside him again. It was Jaehaerys’s fifth heat wave, and depending on if he was above or below average the second to last. He was seated on Jorah’s lap being fed sweet sugar-filled fruits. Jorah had eaten earlier while Jaehaerys had been sleeping but most of the time Jaehaerys passed out soon after a heatwave passed and slept on until the next begun so Jorah had taken to getting sustenance into the Omega the moment Jaehaerys was coherent enough. 

Though muffled Jorah had spoken to Jaehaerys, telling him that his heat waves, seemed to happen aproxamitly every four hours, a little more time than average in between each wave, but Jorah promised the Omega that was actually a good thing as it allowed the Alpha to eat and get a little bit of sleep, in between waves. That also meant it had also been just under a day since Jaehaerys heat had begun and most likely even less time before it was completed. 

Jaehaerys ate the last of the sweet fruit from Jorah’s fingers before leaning back as comfortably as he could sitting on the knight’s cock still locked inside him and slept once more. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

Arya was practicing the movements she’d seen her brother, Jon, and Theon use when practicing with their swords, using a stick. The butcher’s boy was watching nearby and Arya smiled before calling out. 

“Would you like to join me?” she asked.

“Mi’lady I couldn’t. I don’t know anything of swords,” the boy said. 

“I’m not a Lady,” Arya said. “You can call me Arya, what’s your name?” She asked.

“Mycah, Mi’la… Arya,” the boy answered. 

“Get a stick and we can play knights,” Arya said. Like her sister Arya knew that servants always knew more gossip than their masters, particularly kitchen servants. The kitchens always seemed to be the hub of gossip and whispers. Mycah was the son of the butcher, an important member of the King’s kitchens, and by making friends with his boy, Arya may be able to cultivate that friendship and gather rumors and whispers, about the King and his family, as well as other members of his court. First though she had to get the boy to trust her. Allowing the boy to call her Arya despite their difference in social ranking was just the beginning. Not to mention learning things with someone else was always more fun. 

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

“Milady, milord,” maester Luwin, “Shall we review the accounts?” the maester asked. “Figure out just what the Royal visit has cost us?”

“Gods,” said Catelyn, “I can only imagine. Never more than now have I been so thankful for the success of the Northern lumber markets.” 

“Aye,” said Robb, “Though taking a wild guess, I’ll say the visit cleared out all the excess gold that had been saved after my father had finished paying for the last of Moat Cailen Canal and for the food stocks this year?” Robb asked. 

“Close,” maester Luwin said. “Though it’s true that the majority of the excess gold stored here that was not set aside for the regular household needs was used, there is still the gold held in account at the Bank of Braavos. If you recall the initial loan for the Northern Navy was upon the agreement that the loan would be repaid at the earliest opportunity, two percent of all total profits shared by the Northern Navy while in the capacity of merchant trading would be paid to the bank yearly and that fifty percent of the yearly profits would be stored at the bank itself until needed. Your father has been sending chests of gold to them by ship twice a year since the ships have been active excluding the year of the Greyjoy Rebellion when all non-war-bound ships were ordered to do shore patrol and fend off any attempted raids by the Ironborn and he seemingly hasn’t needed to pull any out, using the other fourty-eight percent for sailors wages, crown taxes and the other expenses we’ve had,” maester Luwin stated.

“That has to have grown to quite a tidy sum,” Lady Catelyn said. 

“Best I can tell from the books Master Poole left behind, there is aproxamitly seven million gold dragons, and some change in the account,” maester Luwin said. 

“By the gods” Lady Catelyn said. “I hadn’t realized.” 

“Father never said anything to me either,” Robb said. 

“Perhaps our first order of business should be to appoint another steward?” maester Luwin said. 

“Yes, yes, that would be good,” Lady Catelyn said. “And perhaps then some wine?” 

“Aye that may be for the best,” Robb said. “We will need a Steward to best calculate the gold that needs to be retrieved from the Bank. No point in sending a man without a specific amount.” 

“Aye,” was all maester Luwin said. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

With a little bit of difficulty Tyrion dismounted from his pony. While he could ride a full grown horse, he would require help to mount and dismount. He yawned as cracked his knuckles relieving the pressure that had been building in his hands from holding the reins. He didn’t ride often, preferring a cart if he had to travel, but as he was going to the Wall he would require a horse, unless of course he wanted to walk back to King’s Landing as the cart that was travelling to the wall would remain there. Not to mention he’d have to ride with the rapers that were tied hand and foot so they didn’t attempt to escape. Tyrion sat with his back against a rock as he pulled out one of the many books he had brought along with him, not even attempting to help set up camp. The others might think him an arrogant lord but in all honesty his presence would be more a hindrance than a help with his stature. 

“Here,” Benjen Stark said almost twenty minutes later jarring Tyrion out of the book on Targaryen history. Gratefully Tyrion took the bowl of warm stew. 

“Many thanks, Ranger Stark,” Tyrion said enjoying the way the bowl immediately warmed his cold fingers. 

“Of course,” said Benjen settling beside, the dwarf. They ate in silence, and when they were both finished Tyrion broke it. 

“May I ask you a question Ranger Stark?” Tyrion asked. 

“You may, whether I answer it however, will depend upon what you ask,” Benjen answered. 

“Why did you join the Night’s Watch? You are Lord Stark’s Brother, he’d have given you a generous portion of land and a keep of your own to rule. You could have had great marriage prospects as well,” Tyrion said. For a moment Benjen was silent and Tyrion thought that the Night’s Watchmen might refuse to answer. Benjen sniffed before looking down at his hands. 

“Perhaps, I’d have had land, a keep, and even a wife or a husband,” Benjen said. “But I wouldn’t have been satisfied with my life.”

“And you are now?” Tyrion asked. 

“No, but now because of my oaths the possibility isn’t even feasible and therefore the hope doesn’t tear me apart in my wanting,” Benjen said. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” Tyrion said. 

“I’m not surprised,” Benjen said, “I’ve never even truly told my brother the full reason.”

“A secret then? I’m very good at keeping them if you’d like to share,” Tyrion said with an amused lilt. Benjen huffed with the same amusement. 

“I suppose it’s not a secret that can bring shame to my family, not anymore at least,” Benjen said. “I am an Alpha who prefers the company of male Alphas rather than females or even male Omega’s.” Tyrion was silent. He’d heard of some Alpha males and even Beta males feeling the same inclination but he’d never met any who’d admitted it. 

“If you’d have stayed you’d have been forced to marry a woman or a male Omega,” Tyrion said finally his voice filled with sudden understanding. 

“Aye,” Benjen said. “It’s better this way.” 

“Perhaps,” Tyrion said. 

\----------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------

“I'll get you!” the Mycah said his voice filled with laughter. Arya was laughing as well and didn’t notice as her sister and the Crown Prince approached.

“Arya!” Sansa called to warn her sister that they were coming. Unfortunately it served to distract Arya who turned to look as Mycah swung his stick hitting Arya lightly in the arm.

“What are you doing here? Go away,” Arya said rudely easily falling into the part of the annoyed wild child of a little sister.  
“Your sister? And who are you, boy?” Joffrey asked before turning his attention to the butchers boy. “Mycah, my Lord,” the boy said his face down cast.

“He the butcher's boy,” Sansa said trying to bore the Prince so he’d be convinced to leave.

“He's my friend,” Arya added trying to give him a little protection. Unfortunately for both of the girls and the boy Joffrey had a sadistic streak.

“A butcher's boy who wants to be a Knight, eh? Pick up your sword, butcher's boy. Let's see how good you are,” Joffrey said with a sneer.

“She asked me to, my Lord. She asked me to,” Mycah begged.

“I'm your prince, not your lord, and I said pick up your sword,” Joffrey said scornfully.

“It's not a sword, my prince. It's only a stick,” the poor boy tried logic.

“And you're not a Knight. Only a butcher's boy. That was my lady's sister you were hitting, do you know that?” the Prince said drawing his sword and pointing it towards the face of Mycah.

“Stop it!” Arya yelled trying to be loud enough to perhaps call an adult to come see what was happening.

“Arya, stay out of this,” Sansa yelled fearfully, hopping that the sadistic Beta wouldn’t turn his sights on her little sister.  
“I won't hurt him... Much,” the Prince said as the tip of his blade began to dig into the cheek of the young butcher’s boy. Arya seeing no other way to stop the Prince threw herself at the boy. She was a little bit smaller but perhaps with her Alpha strength she might be able to overpower him. Unfortunately his reaction was to backhand her with the pommel causing her to stumble and fall backwards. Mycah took the opportunity to run and Arya didn’t begrudge him but now she was truly afraid as the cruel Beta pointed his sword towards where she sat on the ground and approached. She scuttled backwards to stay out of reach from the blade. “Filthy little bitch!” He cursed as he swung. Arya rolled out of the way, she had left her sword with her things not wanting to use it for practice until she had someone who was properly trained with her. The valyrian steel it was made from could do a lot of damage even if only by accident. She regretted that now.

“No, no, stop it, stop it, both of you,” Sansa begged afraid for her sister’s life.

“I'll gut you, you little cunt!” screamed Joffrey sounding deranged as he moved to stab at Arya again Sansa screamed Arya’s name and at that second Nymeria came to the rescue. Arya had to pull the wolf away from the prince and quickly took the boy’s sword as well throwing it in the river. 

“My prince, my poor prince, look what they did to you. Stay here, I'll go back to the inn and bring help,” Sansa said trying to hide her relief as she gave a quick look to her sister, who gave a slight nod and quickly took off. Their father was off hunting. Arya couldn’t be found until he was back; otherwise they would be unable to have any control over what happened.

“Then go ! Don't touch me,” the Prince screeched not seeing the wordless conversation that had played out literally over his head. Sansa lifted her skirts and ran holding in a grin, it wouldn’t do for someone to see it after all.


	9. Consequences

Ser Jorah had let Jaehaerys sleep through the day and the night after his heat broke. He’d had a total of eight waves, a little more than average but not by much. Jorah had told him that given the length of time in between his waves that it was likely that Jaehaerys would fall into a quarterly heat cycle, rather than a monthly one that some Omegas had to go through. Daenerys had fallen into that section before she’d been pregnant, and that was perhaps the reason why she had matured into her heats first. Nonetheless, despite the rest Jaehaerys was still sore, and sitting atop a cantering horse was not helping the ache at all. Ahead of him Jorah slowed his horse and Jaehaerys followed suit as their small group of Dothraki guardians and slaves slowed as well.

“We’ll stop and eat a little before we continue. At the speed we’re making now we should reach them by tomorrow before nightfall,” Jorah said. They continued on for a little while longer, to stop at the small oasis, little more than a small watering hole. However small it allowed for their horses to rest and drink while they did the same.   
Soon enough they were mounting again. Jaehaerys rolled his neck hearing the joints pop as he sighed in relief. The sun was beating down but he was no longer dressed in the Pentosi fashion he had been before his heat. His brother wasn’t here to demand anything of him, or order him around and he was dressed as a Dothraki though he wore one of Jorah’s loose shirts atop his bare chest. He smiled up towards the sun. Now he only had to catch up to his sister, and they could decide what they were going to do. With Viserys dead Jaehaerys was now the rightful heir, though he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be a King. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

The hooves of their horses clopped against the stone of the road as the riders walked their horses through Wintertown, though despite its name, it was almost a city. The roads had been a project of Lord Starks though much like the Moat Cailen Canal it had been a slow moving one. Funded entirely by the taxes paid to Winterfell by the Northern Lords, an amount that had only grown over the years despite Lord Stark never once raising them the King’s Road all the way from Moat Cailen to the wall had been paved with cobble, as had the road that bisected the North and connected the two major markets of White Harbor and Flint’s Finger to the King’s Road. Taxes would continue funding the project until every major House in the North was connected by a paved road, a project that could take decades, but had already proven to increase commerce and if Wintertown was anything to go by, population as well. 

“Race you the rest of the way?” Bran called out to his cousin. Summer and Ghost loped behind Bran and Jon’s horses their tongues lolling out happily. 

“You’re on,” Jon said urging his horse into an immediate canter and then gallop.

“Cheater,” Bran called as he forced his horse to follow. They were laughing as they left their guard behind in the dust. They were both laughing by the time they reached Winterfell’s courtyard, Jon winning by only a few lengths. 

“I win,” Jon shouted as he dismounted. 

“No you didn’t you cheated!” Bran shouted back as he two dismounted. 

“It’s wonderful to see you both back,” Lady Catelyn said to them both as she lifted her skirts and descended the stairs from the balcony down into the courtyard Robb and Grey Wind following closely behind. Already Jon could see that Grey Wind was far larger than both Summer and Ghost were; Grey Wind’s back already level with Robb’s hips while Ghost and Summer stood at least four inches shorter. Jon was suddenly caught off balance as a small body barreled into his legs. 

“Jon, Bran, you’re back, you’re back,” Rickon cried out happily as he crawled, up so he could properly hug Jon around his shoulders. Shaggy Dog, Rickon’s wolf bounded out to greet his pack mates as well and much like Rickon had, completely bowled over Ghost who yelped before wiggling up to nip at Shaggy Dog’s rump and draw Summer into the play. Grey Wind sat down beside his master though he looked longingly to the wrestling puppy pile Summer, Ghost and Shaggy Dog formed, and gave a soft dramatic whine. 

“Oh go on then you big baby,” Robb said laughing as Tommon followed closely by Greyjoy arrived in the courtyard, obviously following after Rickon who had run ahead. Before the young Omega could let go of Jon he whispered into Jon’s ear. 

“You’re still my brother, but I’ll keep it a secret, even from Tommy, but I don’t think he’d be mean if he knew,” Rickon said. Jon gave Rickon a smile and glanced to where Robb and Lady Catelyn giving them a quick look that translated into ‘we need to talk’ before turning his face into Rickon’s hair breathing in deep his happy woodsy scent. Jon and Bran had left Greywater the moment Jorjen had told him the King’s party was back on the King’s Road heading once more for the South. Bran and Jon along with their guards had left the road for a bit simply to avoid running into the royal Party, something that was easy enough with all of their guards being Northern and knowing the land better than any Southerner would. 

“Maybe one day you can tell Tommon but not today,” Jon whispered. “Now why don’t you give your brother some of this love, I think he’s feeling a little left out.” Jon could only grin as Rickon suddenly leapt from Jon’s lap allowing the young Alpha to stand, to pounce on his Omega brother.

“Rickon,” Bran whined though the grin on his face gave him away. Jon stood still for a moment before he and Robb stepped forward at the same time to give one another a deep brotherly hug. 

“You look well,” Robb said. 

“I missed you too,” Jon said. 

“Mi’lady,” Jon gave Lady Catelyn a polite nod. She didn’t respond except to purse her lips, Theon and young Tommon were in the vicinity after all.

“You should both wash up for dinner,” Lady Catelyn said doing her best to repress any emotion in her voice which made her sound cold. Much like her eldest daughter, Lady Catelyn could be quite the actor with just a little effort. “Jon, I expect a report on your trip directly after dinner, you will find me and Robb in the Lord’s Solar,” she continued before turning to leave. Once she was out of view, Theon snorted. 

“Surprised you returned at all Jon,” Theon said. “You’d think you could tell when you aren’t wanted, especially when Lord Stark isn’t here to shield you,” 

“Shut it Greyjoy,” Jon and Robb’s voices echoed one another.

\-------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------

Arya was extremely nervous though she tried to control her scent as the guard dressed in Lannister red dragged her to the Royal tent, she had evaded the men for as long as she was able and now she could only hope that her father had returned from his hunt with the men for tonight’s meat. 

Lord Stark burst into the tent only moments after Arya had been dragged in, only stopping to reassure himself that she was alright before yelling, his voice on the verge of melting into the Alpha voice. 

“What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?” Eddard shouted.

“How dare you speak to your King in that manner?” the Queen said disdainfully, a cruel glint in her eye. She certainly hadn’t forgiven Ned for the fact that she’d had to leave behind her youngest despite the fact that her husband had made the final decision.

“Quiet, woman,” Robert ordered. “Sorry, Ned. I never meant to frighten the girl. But we need to get this business done quickly.”

“Your girl and that butcher's boy attacked my son. That animal of hers nearly tore his arm off,” the Queen said coldly. 

“That's not true! She just... Bit him a little. He was hurting Mycah,” Arya interrupted causing the Queen to snap at her.

“Joff told us what happened. You and that boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him,” the Queen said.

“That's not what happened!” Arya denied.

“Yes it is! They all attacked me and she threw my sword in the river,” Joffrey said voice shrill and whiney. 

“Liar!” Arya accused hotly.

“Shut up!” the Prince retorted causing Eddard to finally loose his control. 

“Enough,” Eddard’s Alpha voice rang out. “I want the truth and I want it NOW!” He commanded. Joffrey, even as a Beta couldn’t resist. 

“I was going to cut the pathetic commoner, and the wolf bitch stopped me. I was going to gut the cunt, but then her fucking wolf bite me and she took my sword and threw it into the river,” Joffrey spat unable to stop himself. Gasps went up around the tent. 

“Rodrick, take Arya back to the tent,” Eddard ordered, “Sansa too,” he added seeing her a little off to the side. “Arrange for the wolves to be sent back North, perhaps it was a mistake for them to be brought South with us.”

“Hold on!” the Queen screeched. “That animal attacked my son!” 

“That animal, prevented your son from murdering two innocent people, one of whom is my daughter,” Eddard retorted. 

“Enough,” Robert boomed. “Ned is right, the animal was only protecting its master and for that I thank the gods. Had your son harmed young Lady Stark it could have very well started a war. Blasts what kind of madness overcame him. Again I apologize Ned, I’ll be handling his punishment myself, you see to your girls, make sure they’re both alright,” Robert continued. 

“There is another matter your Grace,” Ned said. 

“Seven hells,” Robert cursed. “What now?”

“The matter of my daughter’s betrothal,” Eddard said. 

“By the gods, there’ll be nothing I can say to convince ya will there be Ned?” Robert said. 

“Nay,” Eddard said. “Not after hearing it directly from his mouth your Grace,” Eddard said. 

“What of Tommon?” Robert asked.

“He doesn’t seem to share the same, apparently violent, inclinations as his brother, though if I may, I reserve the right to reclaim that statement,” Eddard said. Robert sighed. 

“I agree, Tommon has always been sweeter than his brother, softer too, but perhaps that is for the best,” Robert said. “Fine, by my right as King I retract the offer of betrothal between my son Crown Prince Joffrey and Lady Sansa of House Stark on no dishonor of the aforementioned Lady, and no ask of retribution,” Robert said formally. “Now everyone out,” the King ordered. “Except you,” he said pointing at a servant, “You bring me wine.”

As he exited the tent Eddard saw the Hound with the body of the butcher’s boy laying across his saddle, he didn’t say a word as he turned away, Robert could deal with the man. Rodrick was at the tent with three other Stark men minutes from going to blows with four guards dressed in Lannister red. 

“What is going on here?” Eddard demanded. 

“They want the direwolves mi’lord,” Rodrick said. 

“Under what orders?” Lord Stark said, “Because I was just with the King who agreed with my statement to send them back North, and I know of no one who outranks him in this camp,” Eddard growled. 

“The Queen…” One of the men began. 

“The King’s word comes before the Queen’s. I suggest you leave boys,” Eddard said. 

“Especially since you are so outnumbered,” added Rodrick Cassel. 

“Outnumbered,” one of the Lannister men snorted, “We are evenly matched with Lord Stark joining,” the man said. Rodrick gave a truly wolfish grin. 

“You forgot to count the direwolves you were so adamant on having,” Lord Stark said easily catching on to what Rodrick was thinking. As if on cue both wolves stood on either side of Rodrick mouths open as their growls rumbled lowly and white fang flashed. The Lannister guards gulped. 

“The King you said?” one of the guards said. 

“Aye,” Lord Stark said. The guards slowly backed up sheathing your weapons, before turning and doing their best to leave quickly without running. 

“Apologies mi’lord,” Rodrick said. “I meant to have the wolves already on their way but Arya’s only just turned up.”

“It’s not a problem,” Lord Stark said. “I need a letter delivered to Winterfell with them, with someone you trust implicitly. I suspect Jon and Bran bypassed us already, Jorjen Reed would have told them the moment we left Winterfell else I’d have had someone ride to find him and have him deliver it,” Lord Stark continued, as he entered the tent. 

“If I may Lord Stark, word of what happened here will travel North fast does it truly need to be put in a letter?” Rodrick Cassel asked.

“Nay, but that is not what this letter will be for. I’m sending orders for Robb to arrange for a ship from White Harbor to be sent near King’s Landing with orders to stay close to the Bay in the case that we need to flee quickly,” Eddard said quietly. 

“You think it will be necessary?” Rodrick asked.

“After tonight I’m not sure of anything,” Eddard said. “The things that boy said,” Eddard shook his head, “For a moment I was sure the ‘Mad King’ had been reborn.”

“Surely not,” Rodrick said his voice wavering slightly. 

“By the gods I hope not,” Eddard said.


	10. Out of the Frying Pan Into the.... Snake Pit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys I've been a bit sick and with assignments and work responsibilities being thrown at me I procrastinated a little with this chapter. I hope you all enjoy though.

The wall stretched high into the sky its white blue glossy glass like look catching the sun’s rays like a crystalline clear diamond. Tyrion had arrived almost two days ago and yet the massive construct hadn’t ceased to amaze him. Despite the recordings and the stories Tyrion wasn’t sure anything human had created this. He was tiny already but seven hells if the Wall didn’t make him feel miniscule.  
The cold, that was something else Tyrion doubted he’d get used to. It seemed to cut right through him despite the furs he was clothed in, A long hat and gloves, gifts from Benjen, who had realized Tyrion wasn’t exactly prepared for the biting freeze that life at the wall offered. He entered into the dim keep of Castle Black, the air still on the verge of being cold

“Lord Tyrion,” Benjen said as Tyrion sat down beside the Ranger, and pulled a tankard and a jug of sour wine closer to him. “I didn’t expect you to be up and about at this hour.” Tyrion snorted. 

“It isn’t by choice I assure you,” Tyrion said rubbing his head. “I woke with a devastating ache in my head, and this time I didn’t even have the pleasure of drinking the day before.” 

“Lord Lannister,” another gruff voice called causing Tyrion to look up and away from his drink. 

“Lord Commander,” Tyrion said raising his cup, “Forgive me if I don’t rise.”

“I am wondering how long you shall be staying here at Castle Black. We are not well suited for guests of your….” Lord Commander Mormont paused. “Stature.” Tyrion gave a pursed lip smile.

“Not more than another week, I’m afraid that the cold just doesn’t agree with me,” Tyrion said his voice, “Not to mention, I’m sure my nephew will be getting homesick by that time and will be very happy to see me.”

“Of course,” the Lord Commander Mormont said. “Perhaps however you’d be more comfortable in Mole’s Town? Even here at the wall we’ve heard of the insatiability of your sexual appetite.”

“Nay, having to make the trip here every day just to speak with maester Aemon would be tedious, however I am amenable to the arrangement of my guards staying within Mole’s Town rather than here at Castle Black to alleviate any strain upon your stores,” Tyrion said. 

“Of course,” the Lord Commander said with a nod. “If you don’t mind I have to speak with my First Builder Othello Yarwick, East-Watch-By-the-Sea is in need of extra builders, they had another tunnel collapse, only a few injuries thank the gods. Benjen, if you don’t mind, I won’t be able to oversee Yoren’s new recruits if they arrive today ensure they are all fitted before you send them to Allister. He seems to be rather prickly today and we need as many of the stupid fucks to survive as we can get,” Mormont said with a sigh. Benjen gave a small chuckle. 

“Can’t have him eating them alive you mean,” Benjen said, as Tyrion raised an eyebrow. 

“This Allister sounds like a cunt,” Tyrion said. 

“Careful Imp, Allister doesn’t like most people on a good day, he hates Lannisters more so than all but Starks and Baratheons,” the Lord Commander said before leaving the room.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say this Allister was sent to the wall for being a Targaryen Supporter,” Tyrion said. 

“Aye, Ser Allister Thorne of House Thorne, Crownlands House,” Benjen said stuffing the last of his bread into his mouth and standing. He chewed quickly and swallowed. “Since you’re up early why don’t you join me for inspections at the top of the wall ‘fore I have to attend my duties down here? I’ve heard tell you wish to piss from it,” Benjen said. 

“Gladly,” Tyrion said rising from the table to follow the dark haired man, though he took the jug of sour wine with him. 

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys dodged the blade as it swung towards him, doing his best to retaliate though his blow was clumsy and easily blocked. His opponent slid his blade around Jaehaerys and twisted in a smooth movement that the Westerosi knight made look much simpler than it actually was, before pushing down with strength. The wooden training sword was easily pulled from Jaehaerys’s hand and clattered to the ground ser Jorah bringing his blade up to lightly poke the Omega in the chest.

“Dead again, your Grace,” ser Jorah said. Jaehaerys sighed as chuckles rang out amongst the Dothraki who were watching. “Ignore them your Grace, you are learning quite quickly,” ser Jorah said as he picked up the wooden blade and tossed it to him. Jaehaerys caught it easily and slid into the stance ser Jorah had taught im only about a week ago when they’d first returned to the Khalasar. Daenerys agreed with Jaehaerys that he should learn to fight, something Viserys had never allowed. Jaehaerys was the rightful King now, though he still couldn’t see anything concerning the Iron Throne in the future, and Daenerys wouldn’t let him try and force it. The last time Jaehaerys had tried to force himself to have a vision all he’d seen were vibrant blue eyes that had him literally piss his pants, along with giving him a severe migraine, accompanied by a bloody nose. 

For the past couple of nights he’d found himself dreaming of sitting in front of a white tree with red sap and leaves with a sleeping wolf laying in front of him head resting in his lap; its fur was grey and it was as large as a smaller sized pony. He didn’t know what the dream was but it was peaceful and safe. Jorah had told Jaehaerys that the tree was called a weirwood when the Prince had described it to him not specifically as a dream but saying instead that he had read the description in one of Dany’s books, and that the place he described was likely a godswood a place of worship to the old gods. The wolf likely a Direwolf though Jorah had said that direwolves were considered extinct everywhere but beyond the great Wall. That however left another option; House Stark’s sigil was that of a direwolf a house that had stood with the Usurper to take the throne from the Targaryen’s. Jaehaerys didn’t know why he’d be dreaming of a friendly wolf, but one possibility was that the Stark’s didn’t feel the animosity that the Baratheon Usurper had obviously felt towards them. Either way it was strange as other than his memory dreams as Harry, Jaehaerys had never had visions while asleep.

Jorah had told them the truth about their father and what their brother had apparently done, that had caused the start of the war. Before this both Daenerys and Jaehaerys had thrown the Starks Lannister’s and Baratheon’s into a single pool of hate. Now however they both understood why the Northern House had fought against them. They both had hate for the Usurper still however, as well as the Lannisters for their crimes against their niece and nephew. A whoosh of air had Jaehaerys paying attention once more as he skipped back a few steps out of reach of Jorah’s wooden sword. 

They were using wooden swords because they were in Vaes Dothrak, the only Dothraki City, and a city where it was forbidden to draw blood and carrying a blade was therefore stigmatized. They had arrived late the past evening. Daenerys had had to participate in a bloody, and frankly to Jaehaerys a disgusting ritual of devouring a horse heart. Daenerys was far more stubborn than Jaehaerys was or could ever remember being even as Harry, and had resolutely eaten the entire thing. Jaehaerys had wanted to vomit after watching her eat just the first bite. There was absolutely no way he could have done what she had done. At the end however she had named her unborn son after both his father and their eldest brother. The child was to be named Rhaego, Jaehaerys may or may have not shed a hidden tear about that later in the privacy of his own tent. 

After the sixth time of Jorah beating him easily, Jaehaerys asked for a break. Daenerys had wanted to explore the unique city and its markets. Other than when in deep disguise when he had snuck out to heal or when under severe guard and his brothers watchful eye Jaehaerys had never been in a city market, and neither had Daenerys. They would today though and he was so excited his fingers twitched uncontrollably and he bounced on his heels as he waited with Jorah and one of Khal Drogo’s bloodrider’s both of which would be serving as bodyguards today, for Daenerys just outside of her shared tent with the Khal. 

“Khalessi!” Jaehaerys heard one of his sisters servants cry out, before there was a feminine gasp of pain. Jaehaerys pushed back the tent flap and hurried into the dimly lit tent. 

“Dany?” Jaehaerys called out worriedly hurrying over to his sister. 

“Jae,” Daenerys said softly shifting over so Jaehaerys could see Irri’s hands. Jaehaerys remembered Irri; Viserys had purchased her for his pleasure before leaving Pentos. Well technically Illyrio had. Jaehaerys hadn’t realized that shed also been contracted to the service of Daenerys as well. Jaehaerys took Irri’s hands in his own. They had been burned in a strange scale like pattern. 

“Please Jae, can you help her?” Daenerys asked as Jorah and the bloodrider, Cohollo entered the tent. “It’s my fault, she didn’t know I wouldn’t be burned,” Daenerys said. Jaehaerys nodded and without speaking led Irri to sit down upon Daenerys bed. Jaehaerys closed his eyes and channeled his healing ability through his hands feeling the tingling in his fingers as his power flowed out and began soothing the irritated skin, cooling and healing. Gasps echoed around the tent. 

“Maegi!” The blood rider hissed drawing his arakh despite the fact that they were still in Vaes Dothraki and no blood could be drawn here. 

“He is my brother,” Daenerys said stepping in Cohollo’s way even as Jaehaerys stepped away from Irri finished with her healing. “You will not harm him,” Daenerys ordered. Cohollo still looked suspiciously at Jaehaerys but placed his blade back on his belt. 

“I am actually healed,” Irri said in awe looking at her palms. 

“My brother has always had healing abilities, and like me, like any true dragon, he is immune to flame,” Daenerys said smiling towards her brother. “And sometimes, like my namesake, he can see things,” Daenerys continued taking her brother’s hand gently. Jaehaerys looked down at the ground. Seeing one of the dragon eggs Illyrio had given Daenerys he let go of Dany’s hand and leaned down to pick it up. It was still warm when his fingertips touched it. This was most likely what Irri had burned herself on. His sister must have put the egg into the burning brazier. The egg was heavier than he expected, and required him to use both hands to lift it. 

Jaehaerys gasped as he straightened, there was life within the egg, he could sense it, it felt like fire and called to his healing magic. Instinctively he closed his eyes and just let go of the tight control he had over his healing magic. He felt it flow into the egg and he couldn’t stop it when it seemed to pull further sapping him of energy. He fell, crashing roughly to his knees as his magic arched like lightning from his hands still holding the dragon egg before striking into the other two dragon eggs that lay in the open and padded trunk. Distantly Jaehaerys heard his sister scream, and his eyes flew open, but he couldn’t see anything but light. Unbeknownst to Jaehaerys the moment he’d opened his eyes they had glowed with a brilliant violet light, as though miniature suns had found their way into his orbital sockets. Then it all stopped, his magic the light. Every ounce of energy he had suddenly left him and he slumped over as his fingers let go of the egg and it slid the last few inches down to the ground. 

“Jaehaerys! Jae?” Dany called and Jaehaerys could feel her arms wrapped around him. 

“I’m okay,” Jaehaerys whispered, “I’m okay. Just. .. tired.” Jorah and Daenerys helped Jaehaerys to slowly stand and stay steady. 

“Perhaps we should hold off on that visit to the markets.” Daenerys said. 

“No, no,” Jaehaerys said hurriedly. “It’s nothing, I just used too much energy, and I’ll be fine. I can take a nap in my tent while you peruse the market.”

“Why, no, what did you do?” Jorah asked. 

“I don’t really know,” Jaehaerys said. “When I picked up the egg I could feel it was alive and it called for my healing magic. I just,” he sighed, “I just let go,” Jaehaerys said. 

“If they are alive, do you think they could hatch?’ Daenerys asked excitedly as she picked up the egg from the ground. 

“Perhaps, but I don’t know,” Jaehaerys said. “And I’m far too tired to even think of trying to see anything right now.” 

“Irri, could you escort my brother back to his tent?” Daenerys asked. 

“Of course Khalessi,” Irri said as Jaehaerys walked slowly from the tent holding onto Irri’s arm to stay steady, his eyes clouded for a moment before clearing. Not long enough to truly see anything but enough to give him a feeling and a prophecy. It was this ability he found most ironic, considering his life as Harry had been ruined by prophecy. 

“Dany,” Jaehaerys said. “When thy day comes and we stand together and thy throat burns as dry as the desert, take care not to quench thy thirst from the sweet red blood of death,” with that Jaehaerys left with Irri.

“What was that,” Jorah asked. 

“That was the power I spoke of my namesake having, or at least a portion of it,” Daenerys said. “Sometimes he has visions, other times just feelings, and sometimes like just now prophecy. He’s never seen anything like what the first Daenerys must have seen when she forced her family to leave Old Valyria but he saved me and my brother from The Usurpers Assassin’s once. Not that Viserys knew it at the time.”

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

“Robb,” Lady Catelyn called lifting her skirts to hurry down the hall without the fear of tripping up. 

“Mother,” Robb said as he paused waiting for his mother to catch up to him. “I just got word that the Reed party has been spotted. One of the runners said that they had two large wolves with them, fitting the description of Lady and Nymeria.”

“Why would they be coming back North?” Lady Catelyn asked. 

“I’m not sure, they are not far now, we’ll know soon enough,” Robb said just as Bran came barreling out of his room. The boy was as well dressed as he could be and Robb grinned towards his mother at the sight of the freshly bathed and neatly dressed Omega. For Robb this would be the first time he’d ever met Jorjen Reed, and for any of his Omega siblings he would have anticipated hating their husbands for taking them away from his family. But he couldn’t hate Jorjen, not with seeing just how in love Bran truly was. Bran’s heat was to be hitting him in the next week or so, but Robb didn’t have to organize a heat partner because by supper tomorrow Bran would be married and bonded. It was a pity his father and sister’s would be missing it.

“Walk down with us Bran?” Robb asked causing Bran to slow. 

“Okay,” the Omega said still seeming jittery and energetic, his smoky scent easily filling the air showing off just how happy he was. Robb chuckled and pulled the boy into a side hug as they continued walking burying his face into the boy’s hair and giving him a brotherly kiss upon his head.

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

Tyrion was back upon a horse. He’d left Castle Black with his retinue the same day Benjen Stark had left the Castle to go further north on a ranging mission, almost six days ago. He’d be arriving in Winterfell hopefully before the sun disappeared today or soon after it returned on the ‘morrow. Despite what he knew his siblings and his father would say, he couldn’t say that his trip had been a waste. He’d gotten an opportunity to speak with one of the last Targaryen’s living maester Aemon Targaryen. The old man’s knowledge had been vast and his stories delightful, even to the dwarven adult Alpha. 

The day before he’d left a Night’s Watch recruiter by the name of Yoren, who was now one of his companions on the ride south, had brought a pack of new recruits. While a few of them looked like they might eventually be satisfactory, but there was one, seven hells, Tyrion could have fit inside him with little difficulty he was so fat. The boy had turned out to be the firstborn son of Lord Randell Tarly. The young Beta seemed a great coward, but had according to Yoren, had asked to come voluntarily so perhaps there was something to him yet. 

Tyrion sighed. He hoped that they’d reach Winterfell by tonight; he could use a night in warm bed with spiced wine and a good whore. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

Eddard was hurrying towards the Small Council chambers for the emergency session that had been called. He’d only been here for about two weeks and already he wanted to go home. Not only had there been a tourney thrown in his name despite all of his objections, but he had learned that the Crown was six million dragons in debt, three to the Lions of Casterly Rock and another three to the Iron Bank of Braavos. It baffled him just how far Robert had taken his whoring and drunkard ways. Even in the height of the North’s problems in feeding it’s people they had never even gone close to half a million dragon’s in debt never mind the amount his friend had managed to spend. Robert truly was a terrible King and not for the first time Eddard truly thought about his nephew sitting upon the monstrosity that was called a throne. Perhaps the debt was the reason for this emergency session, or perhaps it had something to do of Eddard’s more private suspicions; the suspicions that revolved around the true heritage of the two Princes and the Princess. 

Eddard entered the room that was quickly closed behind him. For once Robert had joined them in his rightful seat at the head of the council chamber. The session quickly began with Robert’s shouting.

“The whore is pregnant! I want her dead,” Robert yelled.

“You're speaking of murdering a child,” Eddard said trying to bring his friend back to the reality of what he was commanding.

“I warned you this would happen. Back in the North, I warned you, but you didn't care to hear. Well, hear it now. I want 'em dead, mother and child both -- and that fool, Viserys as well, and the other Omega bitch. Is that plain enough for you? I want them all dead,” the King shouted veins popping in the top of his head.

“You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this,” Eddard said trying another tactic one that years ago before Robert had even thought of sitting upon the throne would have worked.

“Honor?! I've got Seven Kingdoms to rule! One King, Seven Kingdoms. Do you think honor keeps them in line? Do you think it's honor that's keeping the peace? It's fear -- fear and blood,” the King shouted. Eddard wanted to shout that he wasn’t ruling the Seven Kingdoms he was fucking his way through them but he checked himself trying another logical tactic.

“Then we're no better than the Mad King,” Eddard said.

“Careful, Ned. Careful now,” Robert said turning his anger more towards Eddard. For a second the Stark Alpha thought he saw a flash of madness in his friends eyes but then it was gone and he wasn’t sure if it had been there in the first place.

“You want to assassinate a girl and her brother ... because the Spider heard a rumor?” Eddard asked trying again, anything to stop the man who had once been his brother from giving such a heinous order.

“No rumor, My Lord. The princess is with child,” Varys said. “But we need not a blade for Viserys, according to reports the boy is already dead, at the hands of his sisters own husband.”

“Based on whose information?” Eddard asked.

“Ser Jorah Mormont. He is serving as adviser to the Targaryens,” Viserys said a small little smile playing on his lips as he looked over to where Petyr was sitting. It was always enjoyable to have information that the skinny little man didn’t.

“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor half a world away and call it fact?” Eddard tried again. If he could disparage the information, perhaps he could stop this.

“Jorah Mormont's a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know, to an honorable man,” Petyr said and Eddard felt a spike in his continuous urge to rip the man’s throat out with his teeth. Eddard clenched them and spoke again,

“He broke the law, betrayed his family, fled our land. We commit murder on the word of this man?”

“And if he's right? If she has a son? A Targaryen at the head of a Dothraki army ...What then? And what of the boy? He might be an Omega but there are still those who call for the Targaryen’s to return to the throne, they would call him the rightful King,” Robert asked. His words did make sense but still the two Targaryen’s were no older than Eddard’s eldest child and the boy who was true rightful King that he’d raised.

“The Narrow Sea still lies between us. I'll fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water,” Eddard tried again with logic. 

“Do nothing? That's your wise advice? Do nothing till our enemies are on our shores? You're my council. Counsel! Speak sense to this honorable fool,” Robert’s voice rose once again as he threw his hands into the air.

“I understand your misgivings, My Lord. Truly, I do. It is a terrible thing we must consider, a vile thing. Yet, we who presume to rule must sometimes do vile things for the good of the realm. Should the gods grant Daenerys a son, the realm will bleed,” Varys said. He would certainly arrange for the girl and her child to die but Jaehaerys would be spared. He’d have to marry Aegon after all, be the broodmare of a dynasty of Blackfyres.

“I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Is it not wiser, kinder even, that she should die now so that tens of thousands might live?” the eldest in the room Grandmaester Pycelle said. Eddard knew that the man had deep ties to the Lannisters and would not trust him with anything.

“We should have had them both killed years ago,” Renly said as bloodthirsty as his eldest brother.

“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes, get it over with. Cut her throat. Be done with it,” Littlefinger said with a small grin in Eddard’s direction. The Stark had to lock his legs to stop himself from leaping over the table. 

“I followed you into war -- twice -- without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn't tremble at the shadow of an unborn child,” Eddard said. In his head all he could think was that the statement he had just wasn’t spoken wasn’t true. Robert’s fear, along with his hatred were why he’d hidden Jon after all.

“She dies,” Robert ordered. Eddard shook his head.

“I will have no part in it,” Eddard stated firmly.

“You're the King's Hand, Lord Stark. You'll do as I command or I'll find me a hand who will,” Robert said angrily. Eddard straightened his shoulders. He had lost this fight but still he could not let himself be part of an order that would command the death of two innocent children, not to mention some of the last members of his Nephew’s family. Ned removed the pin signifying his position as Hand of the King and tossed it onto the table in front of King Robert making his decision.

“And good luck to him. I thought you were a better man,” Eddard said.

“Out! Out, damn you! I'm done with you!” the King shouted. Ned gave King Robert a slight nod, then turned and left. Someone else could deal with the King, and Eddard’s suspicions about the so called King’s children.

“Go! Run back to Winterfell! I'll have your head on a spike! I'll put it there myself, you fool! You think you're too good for this? Too proud and honorable? This is a war!” the King’s shouting was cut off when the heavy wood door closed heavily behind Eddard. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard ser Barristan was guarding it from the outside and Eddard made a split second decision.  
“It’s time,” Eddard said. For a moment ser Barristan looked at him in surprise, before giving a nod and moving to hurry off. “Wait,” Eddard called before glancing down both sides of the hallway and lowering his voice. “The King’s children are not truly the King’s. Before I thought they would still be safe even had Robert found out, but now I know the truth. Tommon is already out of his reach in Winterfell, and Joffrey would never let us take him but Myrcella seems to be a sweet girl, I’ll not leave her here to be murdered. There is a ship. North east of the city, bring her there, we will meet you, it will take us to White Harbor. The King will believe that we took the King’s road as long as we ride out of the city and they will not look for a ship until it is far too late.” Ser Barristan gave another nod at Eddard’s words before hurrying off in the opposite direction of Eddard, deeper into the Keep rather than out of it.

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

Eddard was quickly packing his belongings when Jory entered the room. 

“Mi’lord the retinue is packed, we only await you and your daughters,” Jory Cassel said.

“Help them finish getting ready. Do it yourself,” Eddard ordered. “Have you sent someone for the dancing master?” 

“Right away, mi’lord, and yes he is in the courtyard stables, most of the household is, remaining hidden from as many eyes as possible until we leave. As well mi’lord, Lord Baelish is here for you,” Jory said.

“Send him up but tell him nothing,” Eddard said as he closed his trunk and set it at the end of the bed as it should be if he was still slowly packing. No use in giving the little snake more info than was necessary.

“His Grace went on about you at some length after you took your leave. The word "treason" was mentioned,” Petyr said as though attempting to start small talk.

“What can I do for you?” Eddard asked, punching through the conversation to find the real point.

“When do you return to Winterfell?” Petyr asked an Eddard bristled.

“Why? What do you care?” Eddard asked straining not to slam the man’s head into a wall.

“If you're still here come nightfall, I'll take you to see the last person Jon Arryn spoke with before falling ill. If that sort of thing still interests you,” Petyr said and Eddard saw through the tactic. For whatever reason Petyr Baelish wanted Lord Stark in the city and it was not because the man liked him.

“I don't have the time,” Eddard said through his clenched teeth.

“It won't take more than an hour. But as you please,” Petyr said with a smile though Eddard could see some of the frustration leaking through. It wouldn’t do for the man to arrange other means to keep Eddard within the city. 

“Lord Baelish,” Eddard said before the man got too far. The man turned with a smirk playing on his lips as though he knew that this would be the outcome all along. 

“Something I can do for you Lord Stark?” Petyr asked slimily. 

“After the eighth bell where can I find you?” Eddard asked. 

“My brothel on Silk Street, can I expect you there?” Petyr asked. 

“Yes,” Eddard said lying through his teeth. Him and his people would be long gone before the eighth bell, but it would keep Petyr in check just long enough.


	11. The Secrets of Death and A Girl's Name

Arya had found the secret tunnel entrance almost two weeks ago just after the tourney, when she was trying to catch the tom cat that Syrio Forell, former First Sword of Braavos had told her was the fastest. Apparently once she could catch the cat he would speed up her teaching, saying it would show her patience and persistence. But the cat was fast, and she was never able to get close enough to lunge before he took off. When the tabby had slipped into the tunnel that a grown man would just barely be able to fit through and only if they were skinny and unarmored she had followed. 

The tunnel had led into the bowels of the keep and she had found herself in the infamous black cells. Well not quite, she was just outside them, in a darkened corridor directly off the main path that she could see held torches. She had pressed herself to the wall allowing the shadows to hide her when the guard patrol passed, walking on the well-lit path not even bothering to look down its darkened offspring. For the first few days she’d made a game of it, spending her time in there, seeing just how well she could avoid the guards, her Alpha scent obscured by the smell of feces and rot that the general majority of the city smelt of. She used what Syrio taught her, being as light as a feather and as smooth as water slipping in and out of the nooks and crannies unseen; until the fourth time when she was seen or most likely rather; heard. 

“Little girl,” a voice had called softly only a few meters to Arya’s left, causing her to freeze. Arya had believed herself, until seconds before that moment to be alone in the shadows. 

“Who are you?” She had whispered forcing her voice to remain steady.

“This prisoner has the pleasure of being Jaqen H’ghar, and you are little girl?” the voice, no Jaqen had asked. 

“Arya, Arya Stark, and I have to go,” Arya had said quickly before leaving. She had not been able to keep herself away for long though. Perhaps it was her curious nature, or just her sense of adventure and want of danger but she had returned, and not empty handed. She’d packed a loaf of bread and some cheese along with some sweet cakes she’d wrapped up in one of her handkerchiefs she’d failed to embroider as beautifully as her sister, something that had less to do with her abilities and more to do with just how much she hated the mind-numbing activity. She’d even stolen a wineskin from dinner the evening before and hidden it to bring with her. 

It had taken her over an hour to relocate the exact place she’d been when she’d met Jaqen H’ghar last, made all the more difficult because she’d brought a torch with her and everything looked just a little different in the bright firelight than it had in the dimness that had filled it before. When she had finally found him, he’d flinched away from the light covering his eyes. She suspected he’d been here for a while, perhaps forgotten by all but those who were required to feed him and give him water. She’d stayed far enough out of reach from where he could move. There was a shackle attached to a seven foot chain, which allowed him to at least move from where he slept to take care of his daily needs. Underneath the scent of sweat and filth Arya could smell that the man was an Alpha. 

“A man sees a girl,” Jaqen had said once his eyes had adjusted to the flame of the torch, “And wonders why she has returned, this Arya Stark?” For a moment Arya was confused by his strange way of speaking. 

“I… I brought food,” Arya said not knowing what else to say. 

“A man thanks a girl,” Jaqen said. Arya removed her little pack from her back and had held out the wine skin from as far away as she could not wanting to get too close. 

“A man will not hurt the girl, but rather will teach her the art of stealth in thanks,” Jaqen said after he’d taken a long draught of the wine, emptying almost half of it in one go. 

Jaqen had indeed taught her much over the past week and a half. They had played the lie game, sitting cross legged in front of one another, and whenever he could tell the words she spoke to be a lie he’d smack her hands, and not gently. She’d learned how to walk quietly and remain unseen in the dark even better than she already could. She’d brought a few apples down on the second day she’d visited with food and Jaqen had told her to walk around him and stop where she wanted to or keep moving, but above all to stay silent. If he heard her he’d throw an apple. When he’d run out of fruit he’d ordered her to bring him a basket of small rocks, while only pebbles they still left welts wherever they hit and she’d quickly learned not to be heard. 

After having visited the man a few times after her dancing lessons with Syrio, Arya had asked him why he was in the cells. He’d answered by telling her that all information came at a price, that she had to bring him whispers of information whatever it may be and he’d give her information about himself equivalent to whatever she brought him. So began her rumor gathering, something she was already fairly adept at. She’d learned from one of the stable boys that his master was in great debt to Lord Petyr Baelish, and often sent the boy with secret papers to the brothel owner and Master of Coin, because the boy couldn’t read. She’d learned from one of the maids that the maids sister was under the employ of the Queen and that she feared for the safety of her sister when the Queen was in a rage, and she’d learned that Varys’s little birds, were made up mostly of small children who had been mutilated with their tongues removed so that they could never speak. Though she had learned that from a gossipy kitchen hand and hadn’t actually seen anything including and up too one of his ‘little birds’ that she could use to confirm that first hand. 

As Jaqen had promised, he gave Arya information in return. First he told her why he’d been imprisoned in the first place. He had snuck into the Red Keep and had been caught in the Royal Wing. He hadn’t actually done anything beyond that and he told Arya that no matter the information she brought he would not tell her why he had been there, only that it had been important and concerned family. Perhaps the King had ordered the death of a member of his family or one of the servants in the wing was related to him. 

He’d also told her that he’d originally been from Westeros but had spent over twenty years in the city of Lorath, answering Arya’s question of his strange way of speech. Arya hadn’t used her third question yet, she wanted to make sure it was important but now Jory was hurrying both her and Sansa to pack and she never would. The moment the man turned his back to hurry off and give a few more orders to the rest of the retinue Arya turned to Sansa. 

“I have to do something before we go, I’ll be back I promise, just don’t tell anyone until it’s too late to follow me. All my things are packed already,” Arya said strapping her sword on her waist and grabbing the leather pouch that held a set of thin toothpick and hook like metal sticks, perfect for picking locks and something ser Arthur had given to her and showed her how to use years ago. She hurried down the tower past the men who were rushing about up and down the stairs slipping under arms and around bodies until she was outside. She moved as quick as she could though the courtyard down to where the gardens began and out through the gate, of the Red Keep. She made her way down the path by the cliffs and the secret entrance to the black cells. 

As quietly and as quickly as she could Arya made her way to where Jaqen was chained. She didn’t have the time to grab a torch, not if she wanted to avoid being seen by the guards, doing so would take much longer. 

“Jaqen,” Arya said feeling for him in the dark. She found his hand just as he spoke.

“A man wonders why a little girl seems so hurried,” Jaqen asked. 

“My family is secretly fleeing the capital,” Arya said quickly as she felt around for his chain.

“Then a man wonders what a little girl is doing here instead of with her family,” Jaqen said.

“This little girl is saving her friend and asking him to come with her family,” Arya said finally finding what she was looking for. She used touch to jab her picks into the lock. Ser Arthur had made her do this blindfolded so she could learn exactly what she needed to feel to know that the pins and tumbler were turning, and it helped her all the more now. It only took her three minutes to have the lock undone and the shackle coming free. 

“A man thanks a girl for his freedom, and willingly swears her, his service,” Jaqen said. 

“I don’t care about that now,” said shoving her picks back into her satchel. She grabbed Jaqen’s hand as she stood. “Follow and be quiet we have to hurry.” Jaqen did as he was told and Arya led him through the dungeon and into the secret tunnel. When they reached the end it took a few minutes for Jaqen to adjust to the bright light of the sun, and Arya bounced a bit on her heels impatiently. 

“What gate will a girl’s family be riding through? A man cannot go into the Red Keep for a man will only be arrested once more,” Jaqen asked. 

“The King’s Gate,” Arya said. “Father wants to make sure that those in the city believe we are taking the King’s Road home.” 

“A man will meet a girl and her family there. A girl should go, a girl’s family will be worried and missing her,” Jaqen said. Arya gave him a nod and hurried off leaving Jaqen to make his own way to the gate.

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

Tyrion stood beside his young Alpha nephew in the godswood of Winterfell. White and Silver ribbons fluttered from where they were tied to various branches. When he had arrived in Winterfell two nights ago he had not known he’d get to witness the binding of two Northern Houses, let alone what was seemingly a love match between them. The house of Reed and the House of Stark were to be bound together by the hands of Brandon Stark and Jorjen Reed, Omega and Alpha respectively. Tyrion had never witnessed a Northern style marriage and he believed that this would be an experience for him. From what he knew even Lord Eddard Stark had married in the Southern style because the marriage ceremonies had been hasty and planned in Riverwood, where the godswood didn’t even have a weirwood hearttree. 

Jorjen Reed was standing in front of the hearttree, dressed in black and a greyish colored green. He wore a cloak with the sigil of House Reed embroidered upon it, outlined in the silvery grey that seemed to be for House Stark rather than House Reed. A short man that Tyrion assumed was his father stood only a few feet behind him. A soft flute began to play and as one the Northerners turned to look back. Tyrion was rather thankful to be on the outer edge of lines of people so he could see as Rob Stark, dressed in a very nice set of dark grey clothes escorted his young Omega brother down the center towards the hearttree where Jorjen was waiting. Bran was dressed in a set of almost blindingly white robes with grey embroidery along the collar and hemline, which looked to be in a rather simple key style.   
Bran now stood in front of Jorjen with Robb only a few feet behind him. Robb cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Who stands behind this man?” Robb asked referencing Jorjen. 

“I Lord Howland Reed of House Reed stand behind this man,” Lord Reed said before asking his own question. “Who gives this man?” 

“I Heir Robb Stark of House Stark give this man,” Robb answered. “Who takes this man?” Robb asked.

“I Heir Jorjen Reed of House Reed take this man,” Jorjen answered. 

“Do you take this man?” Robb asked Bran.

“I Brandon Stark of House Stark take this man,” Bran answered. 

“Then I bid you both to join hands,” Robb and Lord Howland said together. As one Jorjen and Bran knelt together joining hands. Robb moved forward first as the two bowed their heads and wrapped a silver grey ribbon with white edging around their wrists, crossing it but not nodding it, before shifting back so Lord Reed could do the same with the green ribbon with black edging. The two stayed kneeling for a moment silently completing the tradition of prayers. As they rose they unwrapped the ribbons connecting them, Jorjen the grey and white while Bran did the green and black. When were finished Bran removed the Stark cloak he wore as he turned and passed it to his elder brother. Jorjen stepped forward removing his own cloak and set it gently upon Bran completing the last of the marriage ceremony. Jorjen leaned down and Bran put his arm around the Alpha’s neck as Jorjen lifted him into the air, bouncing him up once to hold him more securely. It was tradition in the North for the dominate of the marraige to carry their new spouse to their seat for the feast. 

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

“Jaehaerys,” Daenerys said happy to see him awake, even if he was reclining tiredly upon his bed when she entered the tent. 

“Dany,” Jaehaerys said with a smile patting the blankets beside him. “How was the market?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“Not as enjoyable as it would have been if you were there,” Daenerys said sitting down on the bed beside Jaehaerys. “Are you feeling better?” Daenerys asked.

“Yes, I had a nap earlier, only just woke up. Perhaps we could go the market together tomorrow?” Jaehaerys asked. Daenerys smiled and leaned forward kissing Jaehaerys gently on the cheek. 

“I’d like that,” Daenerys said. Jaehaerys giggled, and gently patted her barely there belly. 

“You’ve always treated me like your child even though I’m only your baby brother. You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” Jaehaerys said smiling. 

“And you’re going to be a wonderful, uncle,” Daenerys said right back wiggling further onto the bed so they could curl up around one another, something they had done since they were babes.


	12. The Wall of Ice and The Army of The Dead

His breath was coming in short pants as his horse galloped through the knee deep snow white froth flying from the sides of its mouth and eyes rolling white with fear. Othor had fallen quickly when they’d been ambushed, barely removing his sword from his sheath before rotted hands and teeth were tearing him off his horse and his horse apart. Benjen was sure that he’d never get the sounds of the pony’s dying screams out of his head. Jafar had lasted only a little while longer, his horse breaking its leg and throwing him. Benjen had looked back long enough to see Jafar was already dead his neck at an unnatural angle. Now his horse was rushing headlong as fast as it could. It was only a matter of time before he was thrown too but he couldn’t slow down now. 

He pushed his horse towards the trees of the forest. With one hand he loosened his heavy cloak letting it fly off and to the ground; it would only serve to slow him, if the crazy stunt he was about to try and pull off worked. He knew nothing about the dead except the legends. Seven hells until about ten minutes ago that’s all he thought they were; legends. Now however all he could do was hope that they couldn’t actually sense the living and tracked him and his brothers the same way a human would. He removed one foot from the stirrup and bought his knee underneath him atop the saddle even as he pressed close to the horse to keep his balance. As his horse broke the tree line He removed his other foot from the stirrup and brought it up underneath him. If his horse tripped now he was a dead man, he could only send a quick prayer to the old gods when he saw his chance. 

He pushed up to his feet with both knees and jumped up grasping at the large branch. He pulled up his weight and wiggled up until he lay flat upon the branch and held his breath as his horse crashed on the dead following right behind. They didn’t seem to be able to see him but they followed the sound of his horse crashing through the brush, even as he remained paralyzed on this branch barely breathing and screaming prayers to the old gods in his head.

\----------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------

“Arya, thank the gods!” Eddard said running to Arya as she entered the courtyard for the Tower of the Hand. “Where were you?” He asked as he grabbed her and lifted her onto the same horse as her sister. 

“Getting a friend,” Arya said. 

“Syrio’s already here,” Eddard said, patting her leg making sure both her and her sister were steady on the saddle.

“Not Syrio Father,” Arya said. “Jaqen, he’s gonna meet us at the King’s Gate. He won’t have a horse.” Eddard mounted his own horse and was silent for a moment.

“Do you trust him?” Eddard asked.

“I’d not have freed him if I didn’t,” Arya said. 

“Freed him?” Eddard asked. 

“Later Father,” Arya said. 

“Most definitely young lady,” Eddard said, “But we must be off. The gates will be closed the moment they know that we’ve fled,” Eddard said smacking the flank of his horse and starting their party on their way. Every eye on the city was on them as their horses quickly cantered through the streets towards the King’s Gate. Eddard stopped just before it wheeling his horse around so that he could watch and ensure everyone passed through safely. Sansa steered the horse she and her sister rode upon to stand beside their father’s, their horse stopping impatiently. 

“A man greets a girl,” Jaqen said causing the three Starks to look down towards the man, who while still somewhat filthy definitely did not look as though he’d recently spent time in the Black Cells of the Red Keep.

“Jaqen, you made it!” Arya said her voice slightly surprised at the man’s clean clothing, and the bastard length blade he had at his side that most certainly hadn’t been there when she’d helped him escape what could only have been at the most thirty minutes earlier. Strangely the sword’s pommel and hilt were wrapped tightly with cloth and twine to cover it. It didn’t matter for the moment however, she could ask about it later, she still had one question owed to her after all. 

“Of course, this man swore himself to the service of Arya Stark, when she freed him,” Jaqen said. 

“Talk later, flee now,” Eddard said holding out his hand to Jaqen to help him mount behind the Stark Lord. Jaqen grasped the hand and swung himself up into the saddle easily even as Sansa pushed the sister’s horse into an immediate gallop to follow the rest of the retinue that had already left the city. 

The entire party rode at a rather high speed for almost ten minutes. They were now out of view of anyone who might be watching them from the walls of the city or even with a Myrish spyglass from the keep itself. Lord Stark called for the party to slow, something for which those driving the two carts seemed to be glad for. It was not good for their horses to be running at high speeds for long, they were not built for speed but rather their plodding endurance, and it was also hard on the carts themselves. The party slowed but continued moving forward Lord Stark letting Jaqen slide off their horse to settle into one of the carts, before Eddard continued forward checking that everyone was still okay.

“Lord Stark!” Jory Cassel called out. “Company forward,” Lord Stark rode up to the front his hand on the hilt of his sword of their party and sure enough there was a single horse with what looked to be two riders both cloaked. 

“They should be friendly, but best to be cautious,” Eddard said before calling the party to halt. “Cassel, Allyn, Tomard, with me,” Eddard ordered as he pushed his horse to canter ahead of the rest of the party to approach the two strangers on the road. As they approached the larger of the two riders lowered his hood and the younger followed his lead. 

“Ser Barristan, well met,” Eddard says as they approached. “Did you have any difficulty leaving the capital?” 

“No more than what could be expected, I merely told Trant I would be taking over guard duty for the Princess and he was given leave to rest in the tower, I removed my armor,” ser Barristan said nodding to the pack that was on their saddle, “With luck no one will know Marcella is even missing if you caused as much commotion as I expect you did with your family fleeing the capital.” 

“Aye, I’m certain word has already flown to the King of my abrupt departure with my retinue, but there will be soldiers sent soon after, when they realize Myrcella is gone,” Eddard said nodding to the young Princess. 

“Mother hardly notices me and since we came back to King’s Landing I’ve mostly stayed in my rooms. Mother doesn’t want me playing with anyone she deems beneath me and since Tommon is in Winterfell there is nobody for me to play with,” Myrcella said, surprising Eddard with her honesty, maturity and the fact that she didn’t seem to be demanding they take her back to the Red Keep. 

“I apologize that you’ve been caught in the midst of this young lady,” Eddard said, “but we must hurry. The Alarm will be raised soon and we must be gone. Cassel call for the party to continue we need to break off the road soon.”

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

“I’m glad to be able to join you today Dany. It would have been a shame to miss this opportunity,” Jaehaerys said his arm locked with his sister’s as they walked through the market of Vaes Dothraki. It was very different from the extremely uniform market in Pentos, one of the few Jaehaerys could actually remember visiting, even if he had snuck out with a headdress and face cover so that no one would recognize him as there were many who wanted him and his siblings dead, not to mention Viserys’s own rules concerning Jaehaerys and Daenerys going out of his sight. 

Now however Jaehaerys and Daenerys could walk arm in arm, undisguised and in the open through the colorful, crowded, loud and culturally beautiful. Jaehaerys stopped to admire a jeweler’s wares, some of the stones glittering beautifully. Gently he ran a finger over a small hoop. The Jeweler was lighter skinned, and looked to be from one of the free cities rather than a Dothraki, obviously however he had found better business here than in his original home, or perhaps he’d been born of a slave taken and freed, Jaehaerys was unsure. 

“It is meant to go in the ear lobe my good sir,” the jeweler said in Myrish, a form of low valyrian that the man had inferred Jaehaerys most likely spoke given his lighter skin despite the harsh sun and his silver hair. 

“It looks well made,” Jaehaerys said, speaking in the common so that those around him could all understand. 

“Ahh,” the man said before switching to the common as well, “It is made of a strange alloy, my brother found a way to mix melted valyrian steel with silver to make the metal easier to fold and forge. Unfortunately without the secrets to forging the metal valyrian steel can sometimes become brittle during the process which is why even reforged steel is quite expensive.”

“How much for the earring?” Daenerys asked pulling out her coin purse.

“Sister it is alright you don’t have to,” Jaehaerys said, trying to wave her off. 

“Let me spoil my baby brother,” Daenerys said. “I think you would look rather dashing with it piercing your ear.” Jaehaerys ducked his head as was his habit as he blushed a brilliantly bright red. Less than ten minutes later Jaehaerys had the silvery steel hope in his ear, the piercing fully healed curtesy of his abilities, and Daenerys’s purse, well her husband’s purse was a little lighter. Jaehaerys noticed a child beckoning ser Jorah over but before he could investigate shouting from one of the merchants drew his and his sister’s attention. 

“Khalessi! Khalessi!” the merchant called, “Have some of my wine Khalessi! It is from the summer isles and truly lovely.” Daenerys pulled Jaehaerys with her towards the merchant. 

“Come on brother, my throat is well and truly parched,” Daenerys said. Something niggled in Jaehaerys’s memories but he couldn’t think too much about it because Dany had already dragged him in front of the merchant. “Come on,” Daenerys cajoled Jaehaerys, “Just a taste,” she said in the common. 

“Oh!” the merchant said in surprise, “My Lady you are of Westeros, you as well my Lord”

“You have the honor of addressing Daenerys of the House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the riding men and princess of the Seven Kingdoms and her brother Jaehaerys of the House Targaryen, Rightful King of the Andels and First Men, and Rightful Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jorah said popping up behind the two Targaryens to speak.

“Your Grace, Princess,” the merchant said his voice becoming reverent and perhaps even a touch fearful as he dropped down to his knees and bowed his head.

“Rise,” Jaehaerys said slightly uncomfortable. 

“Yes,” said Daenerys taking over for him, “We’d still like to taste that wine.”

“That? Dornish swill,” the merchant said dumping the cup he had poured.   
“Not worthy of a princess let alone his Grace,” the merchant continued with a little nervous bow, “I have a dry red from the Arbor ... nectar of the Gods. Let me give you a cask. Uh ... a gift.” Jaehaerys felt a flash of fear the moment he saw the merchant lift a small cask, and reached and grasped Dany’s hand tapping his finger against her palm three times, before giving two quick squeezes, a signal they had worked out years ago when they were still in Braavos, it meant that Jaehaerys felt something wrong. Dany and Jae immediately thought of the small prophecy Jaehaerys had given only days ago.

“You honor me, Ser,” Jaehaerys said politely, giving nothing away even as Daenerys leaned over and whispered in Dothraki to her bloodrider.

“The honor...” the merchant hesitated nervously as he watched Daenerys but couldn’t hear what she’d said, “The honor is all mine. There are many in your homeland that prays for your return, your Grace, and yours as well princess.” 

“I hope to repay your kindness someday,” Jaehaerys said. The merchant was visibly sweating now and Daenerys motioned to the bloodrider. 

“Rakharo,” Daenerys said and the Dothraki man stepped forward. 

“Huh. Is something wrong?” the merchant said swallowing hands shaking a little even as he held the wine cask.

“I have a thirst. Open it,” Ser Jorah demanded as he made his presence more known. 

“The wine is for the King and his sister the Khaleesi. It's not for the likes of you,” the merchant attempted to sneer but it fell flat, more fearful than haughty.

“Open it,” and the merchant carefully opened the cask, “Pour,” said ser Jorah standing tall behind the royal twins.

“It would be a crime to drink a wine this rich without at least giving it time to breathe,” the merchant said trying to stall. 

“Do as he says,” Daenerys and Jaehaerys said at the same time. 

“As the King and the princess command,” the merchant said. The merchant shakily handed the cup to the Westerosi knight.  
Sweet, isn't it?” the merchant said as ser Jorah brought the cup to his nose to smell. “Can you smell the fruit, Ser? Taste it, My Lord. Tell me that that is not the finest wine that has ever touched your tongue.”

“You first,” ser Jorah said already having caught on to the wine merchant just as Jaehaerys and Daenerys had.

“Me? I'm afraid I am not worthy of the vintage. Besides, it is a poor wine merchant who would drink up his own wares,” the merchant said backpedaling.

“You will drink,” Daenerys ordered Jaehaerys far happier to let his sister rule, it seemed much more her domain than his. The merchant said nothing just took the cup from ser Jorah and saluted both of the royal twins with the cup, before slowly lifting it to his mouth. Before the man could actually take a sip he dropped the cup and had thrown the cask at the bloodrider running as fast as he could to escape. The sudden movement had thrown Jaehaerys off balance causing him to fall on his back even as Daenerys wrapped her arms her belly protectively as the merchant had pushed past her in his effort to run. 

“Khaleesi!” Irri gasped out quick to help her even as ser Jorah helped Jaehaerys stand and various Dothraki warriors raced after the merchant. By the time Jaehaerys and Daenerys were steady and Daenerys’s handmaidens and ser Jorah escorted the two Omega’s out of the market to the safety of the Khalasar’s tents, Rakharo had already taken down the merchant with his whip, other warriors of the Khalasar quick to get the merchant to his feet to march before the Khal.


	13. Forging New Swords and Broken Alliances

Lord Stark praised the gods when above them in the crow’s nest a young voice called out,

“Land ho.” While none of the men the King had surely sent after them had found them Eddard was certainly glad to be reaching the Northern shores soon. Robert would certainly be raising his banners as would Lord Lannister. There was much to prepare for and far too little time to do it in. He glanced over to where his Alpha daughter was teaching both her sister and young Marcella the first moves in the Braavosi water dances, under the watchful eyes of Syrio, ser Barristan, and the strangely familiar yet very foreign Jaqen H’ghar.

As though reading his mind the man looked up at him. Eddard stared for a moment before turning his eyes away. The man could be unnerving but for whatever strange reason Eddard felt he could trust him despite his reddish blond hair and green eyes that made him look like a Lannister. He’d sworn himself to Arya, and so far had seemingly done his duty, following her around as a bodyguard as well as helping her train. Still Eddard couldn’t help but be curious of the man. He wondered how the white blond lock of hair he had come to be, it was almost as white as he remembered Rhaegar Targaryen’s being. Eddard breathed deep, happy to once more be breathing in clean Northern air.

A shout of laughter caused him to look at his children and young Marcella once more. The girl had surprised him with her mental fortitude, but it would seem she had hidden depths. Then again perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised, not only had the girl survived King’s Landing as long as she had but she had also survived her sadistic older brother. The stories she had told, if Eddard hadn’t already broken ties with Robert he would have simply for the man turning a blind eye to Joffrey’s crimes. Marcella had confessed to being forced to watch her older brother order ser Blount to beat and rape a young Omega that had been even younger than her, when her mother had praised her for her beautiful stitch work. Joffrey hadn’t liked that his younger sibling had received more attention, even for a mere few moments and had threatened to order ser Blount to do the same to her if she ever ‘tried to take mother away from him again’. She had been careful to make herself invisible without calling attention to the fact that she was doing so. 

She had taken the fact that she was not a Baratheon quite well, and had merely requested that she be allowed to remain in Winterfell with her younger brother where they would be safe and Eddard had agreed. His daughters had not treated her any differently either, which made him quite happy. He had raised them well. Marcella had even laughed heartily in delight when Eddard had told her the truth about Jon, and that Eddard had no plans of ever letting Joffrey sit on the Iron Throne. The flashing of her eyes let Eddard know that despite her meek masks and demeanor she truly was a woman of strength, much like her mother as dastardly as the woman was. 

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

Lord Manderly was waiting for them upon their arrival at White Harbor, but he was not alone. Jon along with his eldest son Rob were waiting for them, each with their pony sized wolves and two others that his daughters immediately recognized. 

“Lady!” Sansa screamed out happily at the same time Arya called out,

“Nymeria!” Eddard smiled widely as they both nimbly leapt off the boat onto the dock and raced towards their wolves, Sansa holding her skirts high while Arya moved easily in her trousers, across the wooden planks. The two wolves were obviously happy as well, leaping from where they had sat docile beside their brothers to race towards their respective girls. 

“Lord Stark,” Lord Manderly said in greeting as Eddard passed his girls and approached the rather wide lord. “The seas were not too rough I hope?” 

“No they were not,” Eddard said, “but I am glad to be in the North once more.”

“Aye,” Lord Manderly said. “Starks have never done well in the south,” the man said a pensive look on his face as he remembered the past. Lord Stark grimaced slightly at the memories.

“Aye, the North is where we belong,” Eddard said.

“There is news, from the south. News you probably missed due to being on the sea,” Lord Manderly said. At that very moment an uncloaked ser Barristan and Marcella, descended from the boat, and White Harbor’s Lord eyes blew wide as he looked at his liege lord in shock. “I suppose you do know then.”

“What words flew on the ravens exactly?” Eddard asked.

“Just that you and your family had fled the capital, and that ser Barristan had kidnapped the Princess Marcella. There were whispers of course that the reason you had fled the capital was that you had ordered ser Barristan to kidnap the Princess, but no House of the North believed them to hold any truth and the ravens didn’t carry words of treason so obviously the King didn’t either,” Lord Manderly said.

“Lord Manderly?” Marcella called to gain the Lords attention. 

“Aye Princess?” Lord Manderly said with a slight deferential tone though not more so than the tone he’d just used with Eddard.

“I am neither kidnapped nor am I a true Princess, merely a baseborn daughter of royal blood,” Marcella said and if possible Lord Manderly’s eyes widened more and he gripped his braided beard and tugged a little.

“By the gods my Lord! The Princes?” Lord Manderly asked Eddard who merely nodded his head in negative. “Seven hells!” the fat Lord cursed. 

“As polite as it maybe to accept you hospitality for a longer length of time Lord Manderly, my party will only be staying for tonight before moving on. We must get to Winterfell. That the King does not actually know Marcella is with me gives us more time to prepare, but the North will soon be at war,” Eddard sighed. “If I could however use your solar and ravens, I have letters to prepare. I will be calling all the Northern Lords to come to Winterfell in a moon, there is much that needs to be discussed,” Eddard said.

“Of course my Lord,” Lord Manderly said. 

“Call me Eddard please,” Eddard said. 

“Eddard then,” Lord Manderly said. Lord Stark turned to Jon and his son who had been greeting Arya and Sansa while he was distracted by Lord Manderly. 

“Robb, Jon,” Eddard said with an affectionate smile and both of the boys, almost men now moved to hug him. 

“Father,” Robb said happily as he hugged Eddard first, “We have missed you.” Eddard held him tightly before pulling away to take a better look at his eldest boy. Robb had grown several inches and in fact almost stood eye to eye with Eddard now. He’d let his dark Tully red curls grow longer and they framed his face in a slightly feminine way. His eyes though were all Stark, steel grey and strong. 

“I have miss you as well my son,” Eddard said as he pulled away. “You have grown almost as tall as me now.” Robb chuckled moving back so Jon could hug Eddard as well, though the boy hesitated looking over to Lord Manderly. While all almost the entirety of the residence in Winterfell, Greywater Watch, and the members of the Northern Clans knew who and what Jon truly was, that number did not include the Lord of House Manderly. 

“Jon,” Eddard said in a tone that pushed all of Jon’s hesitation away. 

“Father, Robb is right, we have missed you,” Jon said. Eddard breathed deep as he pulled away. 

“Not father anymore your Grace, Lord Eddard, or perhaps Uncle if you wish,” Eddard said lowering himself to one knee. 

“Don’t kneel for me Uncle,” Jon said, and Eddard rose. Lord Manderly looked on in confusion as did his men though they were too far off the dock to actually hear what was being said. 

“Come Lord Manderly, we have much to speak of,” 

\------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-----------------------------------------------

He was half frozen when they came upon him, or more accurately he came upon them. He’d lost his cloak in his daring escape attempt from the dead and the inside of his boots were wet and cold where snow had entered and melted as he trudged through the deep banks of snow, in the direction he’d hoped the wall lay. That he couldn’t see it spoke of just how far he’d ridden in his escape. 

He had to keep pushing himself forward, to find somewhere, warm or even partially sheltered that he could take refuge in for the night. He kept up a mantra of, keep moving, and must warn the watch as though to motivate himself to continue walking. If he rested now he would never rise again. He was hungry and thirsty, but knew not to eat the snow for it would only make him thirst more. His horse had had all its supplies on its back, and he had little more than the clothing wore and the hatchet, sword and daggers that were strapped to his body along with his bow. The bow was next to useless however. His quiver had been strapped to his horses back and now he couldn’t even shoot down a rabbit or even a squirrel for food. 

Had he not been so exhausted or frozen he would have noticed them before he quite literally stumbled into one of them. The body he had trudged into was solid and Benjen would have fallen backwards had hands not grasped at him. Benjen looked up into grey blue eyes similar to his own looking down at him as the scent of Alpha filled his nose. He opened his mouth to speak as he tried to blink to clear his sight. His eyes didn’t open again as he slumped letting his weight fall completely on the stranger to hold up.

\---------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break--------------------------------------------------

Mance was surprised as all hell when the nightswatchmen stumbled from the up over the small embankment, but even more so when he didn’t seem to see them. Tormund beside him moved to draw his axe, but Mance put his arm across the fire-touched man’s chest holding him back, surprising himself and the party around him. He wanted to see what the crow would do.

The man drew ever closer but didn’t seem to actually see them, despite the fact that they were right in front of him. His lips were blue and he was shaking so hard Mance was surprised he was still walking. His grey blue eyes were piercing as they looked at him but they didn’t seem to actually see him or his companions. Above the sound of soft yet freezing wind Mance could hear the man mutter even as his teeth clanked together from the cold.  
“The dead, keep moving, must warn the watch, the dead, keep moving must warn the watch, the dead omfh,” the man muttered as he collided with Mance. The man sagged as he looked up, his eyes finally registering Mance’s figure and widening before fluttering closed as the man suddenly let go. Mance had no idea how far he’d walked but considering Norlaf had tracked a large amount of the dead moving east approximately three days away in the direction the Crow had been coming from, it had obviously been a while. 

“Help, me lift him,” Mance hissed trying to hold up the Crow’s entire weight. 

“Why the fuck would we do that? He’s a Crow,” Hissed one of his companions, Ornold. 

“So was I! Now help me lift him ‘fore I rip out your throat with my teeth,” Mance said bearing his crooked teeth in a menacing snarl. Ornold along with Tormund helped Mance lift the Crow and they shifted to place him on the sledge as the others began packing up their small scout camp. Mance began packing extra furs around the Crow as well as heating the few rocks he could on their small fire before wrapping them too in furs and packing them in as tight as he could to the frozen man’s body. They were only an hour or so from the Camp of the Free Folk, if they hurried they might be able to get the Crow into one of the hot pools before he died of the cold sickness, and Mance didn’t plan on letting the grey blue eyed man freeze.   
\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

He forced his old legs and feet to move faster. When he’d first seen the seal for House Waxley a shield with six candles pressed into grey wax he hadn’t thought much of it. House Waxley was a rather unimportant noble House in the Vale. The letters contents however were of much importance. 

Grandmaester Pycelle burst into the throne room where the King was holding court, for once sitting on the throne himself rather than having another do so for him. After Lord Eddard Stark had fled the capital Robert had sent a letter at the behest of his wife to Lord Lannister, to become hand, but the man had yet to arrive, and thus King Robert was stuck ruling the kingdom when he’d obviously much rather be drinking or better yet whoring. Not that Pycelle could blame the King for wanting a good fuck every now and then, it wasn’t as if he didn’t sneak into the skirts of a girl or two himself. 

“Grandmaester what is the meaning of this?” the Queen said as everyone turned to look at the panting old man. He shuffled forward quickly now that he was in full view of everyone. It was best to look much more vulnerable and innocent than one truly was in King’s Landing. 

“A letter your Graces,” Pycelle said still a little breathless, “From Ser Edmund of House Waxley.” Both the King and Queen frowned and the Queen spoke again her voice filled with disdain. 

“And you found that a reason to interrupt the court why?” 

“Ser Edmund writes word of Princess Marcella,” Pycelle said moving forward, with the letter extended. The Queen snatched it from his hands and read it quickly growing more and more visibly irate. She thrust it towards the King with a hiss. 

“Your friend has betrayed you! He has two of our children! What will you do now? Will you beg him to return our children or will do your duty as a King and a father and rip Lord Stark apart for his audacity!” she growled doing a passible impression of the animal her house was known for. Robert’s face became visibly more and redder in anger as he read the letter. Queen Cersei stood waiting as did the rest of the court, for King Robert to say something, anything. The man opened his mouth his face becoming purple as veins in his neck strained and he dropped the letter. The King lifted a hand to his chest as he tried to stand before stumbling and falling over. Kingsguard knights moved forward as the King suddenly exhaled, life leaving him. King Robert was dead, dying of a heart attack on the throne room floor. Long live the King.


	14. Love and War

Daenerys gave her brother a quick hug before moving to mount her horse. Jaehaerys’s preheat had come upon him once more, about a month sooner than what had been expected but once every three or so turns of the moon was better than the stories of Omega’s who had a heat every moon. Jaehaerys had had an awful feeling about being left behind and had told his sister of it. He hadn’t however had any dreams, visions or other prophetic musings. As they slowly approached their shared sixteenth birthday, Jaehaerys dreams about who he used to be got more vivid, and realistic to the point where it had begun taking Jaehaerys a few minutes in the morning to regain his sense of self, and the fact that he was Jaehaerys and not Harry, especially as it wasn’t so simple as to crawl into bed with Daenerys anymore. 

A side effect of the dreams however seemed be Jaehaerys learning more control over his healing abilities. He’d taken to riding in immediately after the Khalasar finished whatever raid they were on in order to heal the warriors of any wounds, before even Daenerys who had taken to staying back upon orders of her husband, as most of the raids so far had been on other Khalasars and the Khal had no intention of his unborn child and wife being on the front lines in danger. At first the warriors had rejected his help hissing curses at him, but when he saved the lives of one of the bloodrider’s wife and child, that would have both been lost in the midst of a rather difficult child birthing the superstitious people had opened up to his abilities. 

Harry Potter, while he had been an Auror for two years after the Battle of Hogwarts, going directly into training rather than returning for a make-up year at Hogwarts, had quit and had become an apprentice under Madam Poppy at Hogwarts for a year. She taught him all she could before sending him to a colleague she had met at a conference, who used much of the same methods that worked for Harry. He served under the Chinese man, Koga, for eleven months before taking his Healer’s Exams and Oaths and become a fully-fledged Mediwizard with an emphasis in magical diagnostics, emergency care, and Chinese muggle and magic holistic medicine finding work at St. Mungos. 

While Harry had had too much magic to direct his magic in precise medical spells he was almost miraclistic when it came to directing his magic into specific parts of the body to force what was more of a natural healing. His abilities had required him to have great understanding of the human body and Madam Poppy Pomphrey had actually ordered him to take several anatomy and biology classes in the muggle world, while Master Koga had taught him muggle and magical acupuncture and moxibustion as well as pressure point healing and massage. Master Koga had also taught Jaehaerys tai chi, as a method to clearing his mind and practice rudimentary occumancy but as he progressed further under the man, he was also taught the martial art, as a way to fight physically, though his Healer’s Oaths and his own promises to Master Koga upon being taught ensured that he would only seek to harm an opponent using tai chi if there was no other, peaceful way to resolve the issues that led to the prospective fight in the first place. 

Jaehaerys learned almost as a third party some of the things Harry learned. The man he was previously was a good healer and served almost three years after his two years of healer training, and would have served many more had he not been murdered. Jaehaerys had also begun to practice the beginning movements of tai chi in the mornings when he woke, working on his very weak mind shields and building up the flexibility and strength of his body, before his swordplay training with ser Jorah. One of the younger members of Khal Drogo’s bloodriders, one the Khal often ordered to protect his wife’s brother had taken it upon himself to teach Jaehaerys how to fight dirty, both with and without a weapon. Jaehaerys was never more thankful for his healing abilities as he was after a session with ser Jorah and Cohollo. While he may intellectually know how to fight, he still had to teach his body physically and build up the muscle necessary to put what he knew into practice. 

“Come your Grace,” ser Jorah said bringing Jaehaerys out of his thoughtful reverie as he watched his sister and the rest of the Khalasar move on. “Fruits have been cut up for you to eat; you should rest and gather your strength.” 

“Of course ser Jorah, and again I thank-you,” Jaehaerys said passing by the knight to enter the tent that had already been set up for him. 

“Trust me your Grace,” ser Jorah whispered the moment Jaehaerys was out of hearing range. “It is truly no hardship on my part.”

\--------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------------

When he woke up he was warm. It strange and took him a moment to understand how strange that should be. His eyes blinked. He could see stretched canvas above him even as his fingers clenched into the soft furs that covered the bed he was laying upon and he tried to figure out where he was. He tried to push himself up but suddenly hands where pushing him back down as grey blue eyes looked down on him. Benjen stiffened as he remembered exactly what had happened, the dead, the cold and the fact that he had not been rescued by his Brothers, but by wildlings.

“Stay still Crow,” the man said. “We didn’t carry you here half frozen only for you to die by exerting yourself before you are ready,” he continued turning away satisfied that Benjen was staying in the bed and busied himself making some kind of hot drink mixing it with with herbs. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Benjen asked suspiciously as the man turned back to him with a cup made of an animal horn full of whatever drink he had just made. The man paused in his movements for a moment as though surprised by his own mental answer to the question Benjen had just posed. 

“If we hadn’t you would be dead,” the man said setting the horn on a small table beside the head of the bed. “Will you allow me to help you sit up?” the man sad holding his hands out but not moving closer until Benjen nodded. Once Benjen was sitting the man picked up the horn and knelt to help Benjen in holding the horn cup so that he could sip at the drink. Benjen made a face at the sour taste and the other man chuckled. 

“Nothing like warm sour bearberry ale and steeped willow leaf, to make you warm eh?” the man said. 

“That stuff is strong,” Benjen said though it was true, the alcohol as horrid tasting as it was, seemed to be warming his body from the inside, though perhaps that was the actual temperature of the liquid since the man had seemed to heat it in the horn over the fire. 

“Aye nothing like the wine you pretty southern shits seem so fond of eh,” said another man who had entered the tent without Benjen noticing him, though from the lack of surprise he could see on his caretaker’s face the other man had obviously seen him come in. 

“Tormund,” the caretaker said warningly rising, from where he’d been kneeling to help Benjen drink. 

“What?” the red haired man obviously named Tormund said his voice rising in obvious anger. “The Crow’s only been awake for a few fucking minutes and you’re already kneeling for him.” 

“We do not kneel,” the man hissed back, “I do not kneel.”

“Right,” Tormund said dismissively. 

“Cousin, there you are,” a feminine voice said as another fire-touched wildling, this one female entered the tent. “Oh, the Crow is awake,” she said seeing Benjen sitting up and still holding the horn of forgotten bearberry ale. 

“The Crow’s name is Benjen,” Benjen said, “Benjen Stark, and he’d like to know how the fuck the dead are walking, and where the fuck he is.”

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

Winterfell was bustling with servants, Lords, and Heirs. Arya watched from the balcony of the keep, beside her sister and mother as everyone seemed to be in a hurry to go somewhere. Jaqen was somewhere in the shadows behind her. It hadn’t been long before he’d been trusted with Stark secrets, though he’d not so much as twitched when he’d learned of their full extent. Her Lord father had immediately called for a Lord’s Moot the moment they’d landed in the North using Lord Manderly’s ravens to send out the orders of attendance before they’d even reached Winterfell themselves as well as send raven’s to alert Winterfell as to what was coming despite it being likely that Jorjen or Bran had already had green dreams and alerted those at Winterfell to prepare.

“Never have I been gladder of your father’s intelligence in economic matters for the North. We’d never be able to feed let alone house all of the Lords had he not quintupled the profit the North was making over these past years,” Lady Catelyn said. 

“Aye,” Arya said pulling in a deep sigh. “Mother, how likely is it that father will be securing an alliance with Dorne using me?” Arya asked. Lady Catelyn smiled down at her most headstrong daughter placing a soft hand on Arya’s shoulder. 

“Fairly likely I’m afraid,” Catelyn said. “But to my understanding Doran has two Alpha son’s Quentyn and Trystane, and neither of them has been promised. Likely father will ensure that you’ll have the choice. Dorne is also more lenient in the rules concerning woman, you will likely be happier there than anywhere else. Not to mention you will not have to play High Lady as Princes Arianna will inherit her father’s seat,” Lady Catelyn continued. “I am sorry that it has become necessary but, if Jon is to take the throne we will need Dornish allies. Dorne is the only Kingdom that by itself successfully rebelled against the Targaryens alone. Even the North required the help of the Riverlands and the Stormlands.”

“What of me mother?” Sansa asked. 

“Your father has remained remarkably close lipped upon the subject. I know he did not want you betrothed to Joffrey but at the time of the King’s request it was impossible for him to deny the man. As honorable and oafish as your father can often portray being he was masterful in freeing you from the betrothal to that monster,” Lady Catelyn said. “He has refused to consider any betrothal contracts concerning you which leads me to believe he has already decided upon a match and has yet to tell me.”

“I would have thought Domeric Bolton,” Sansa said. “Bran’s match to Jorjen while being a love match also soothed the Northern Houses. They did not like the fact that father married a southern bride, no offense to you mother,” Sansa continued. “Lord Bolton much like every Bolton in the past is ambitious, a match with me may have curbed that. Not to mention the bastard’s death when father’s men caught him ‘hunting’ likely strained the relationship between the Boltons and Starks further.”

“Aye, it was a possibility I mentioned, and your father discarded,” Lady Catelyn said. “And while your words may be painful to hear, they are the truth. The North would be better settled with you married to a Northerner.”

“You taught us the truth is always them most painful, that’s why it is the truth,” Arya said. Lady Stark nodded. 

“Yes, I learned that lesson from the lips of a liar,” Lady Catelyn said reminiscing. “One who sullied my sister and tried to taint my marriage before either of you was even born.”

“Lord Baelish?” Sansa asked. 

“Aye,” Lady Catelyn said smiling as she watched Jorjen and Bran walk holding hands towards the godswood, Bran’s wolf Summer following close behind. The maester had already confirmed Bran was pregnant and he had missed the heat that was supposed to occur shortly after his marriage. Greywater Watch would soon have a new heir. Lady Stark sometimes didn’t know whether her tears thinking of it were just happiness since her son was happy or sadness that she was losing one of her sons to adulthood. Perhaps it was both. 

“He did seem to have a more than persistent interest in me,” Sansa said thinking of Lord Baelish.

“The longing and somewhat lingering looks that he would immediately try to mask, give it away?” Arya teased. 

“Shut up,” Sansa hissed shivering in disgust. “Do you know how many times I wanted to carve the little worm’s eyes out? I felt as though I needed a bath after everytime he looked at me.” Sansa said. 

“Girls,” Lady Catelyn warned as her husband climbed the stairs to come towards him Robb and Jon right behind him. 

“Father,” Sansa and Arya greeted. 

“It is almost time,” Eddard said smiling at both of his girls and then to his wife. Jon let out a slightly harsh breath. 

“Someone should fetch Bran and Jorjen,” Robb said. 

“Aye, and Rickon too, I believe that Theon is with him and our royal Waters in the courtyard by the Wolf Tower,” Eddard said, speaking of the tower that had been half collapsed before being rebuilt just before Arya’s birth. 

“I’ll go father, though I know not where Bran and Jorjen may be,” Robb said. 

“The godswood is most likely, they were heading there earlier,” Catelyn said. 

“Of course,” Robb said with a chuckle. “Jorjen has been trying to teach Bran how to warg from what I’ve been hearing, and it would be much quieter there than the rest of the keep,” Robb said before heading off to find his brothers and their companions. When they were gone Lady Catelyn turned to her husband. 

“What of Theon? While we have raised him as our own he is still a hostage here, and likely not an ally, he could be a danger to Jon,” Lady Stark said. 

“Aye, I thought of that,” Eddard said. “But I think he will support us over his father. Omegas are not well liked in the Iron Islands, especially male Omega’s. He knows that his life will be far better here under our protection than under that of his father’s. If I must I will arrange for him to be married to someone on our side, perhaps your brother even,” Eddard said. Catelyn nodded, and was silent for a moment.

“And Tommon? Marcella?” she asked. Eddard sighed deeply. 

“Bran had another dream,” Eddard said after a moment. The girls and Jon quickly stiffened and paid more attention to Eddard rather than to the people scurrying down below. “He only told me this morning. Tommon will marry Rickon,” Eddard took a deep breath; “They will rule Moat Cailen when the time comes. Bran said they would be called the Goldstarks.” Everyone shifted nervously. No one liked the fact that Rickon their son, younger brother, or cousin would be marrying not only a bastard but a bastard of incestuous nature. Jon was the first to get over it and speak.

“It would be hypocritical of me to consider Tommon or Marcella an abomination considering the family I come from, but the Northern Lords will not like it,” Jon said. 

“They will like it more when they learn that a half Stark will not only sit upon the throne but that he will have a Stark wife,” Eddard said. Once more everyone froze. 

“I am to marry Sansa then?” Jon asked. “Did you not think to consult me on this?” Jon continued his voice slightly angry. 

“The North would not support a Targaryen on the throne, not even a half one unless they had assurances of their position. It is the only way,” Eddard said though his face was slightly guilty. Sansa moved forward setting her hand on Jon’s arm.

“You know he’s right, and though we may not love each other I would rather have a friend I can trust at my side than a spouse I cannot stand, wouldn’t you?” Sansa asked. Jon’s hackles lowered. 

“Aye, I suppose so,” Jon said. “Though if I am to be King Uncle, I can’t have you making any more decisions for me, from now on we discuss things, and you can convince me of your positions, as an advisor,” Jon said. 

“Of course,” Eddard said before his mouth twitched up into a smile and he gave a deferential head tilt, “Your Grace.”

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

The city was rather quiet, though it still stank to high hell, Tyrion thought as he rode in on his pony, his guards all around him. He was glad he’d left the North and the Riverlands before word of Lord Stark not only fleeing the city but stealing away Marcella had arrived, else he’d likely have become a hostage as well. Bronn, a sarcastic mouthy sellsword Tyrion had picked up in the Crossroads Inn, who like his ale and women almost as well as Tyrion did rode beside him. 

“They don’t seem to like you all that much My Lord,” Bronn said leaning a little towards Tyrion as they rode. Tyrion looked around, the common people did seem to be glaring at him more than they usually did when they saw his short stature and lion sigil that marked him as not only a Lannister but Tyrion ‘the Imp’ Lannister. 

“Aye,” Tyrion said, “I don’t like it let us make haste to the keep, I fear I will need to have words with my dear sister and nephew as to what has occurred in my absence.”  
\--------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------------

“You what!” the imp shouted. The Queen gestured towards her and she quickly hurried to pour her Grace some more wine, while keeping one ear on the conversation. Lord Reed himself had chosen her for the job of keeping an eye on the royal family and reporting everything. She was not the only one she knew, but she did not know of the others. It was smart of Lord Reed. It meant not only could she never betray his other agents but also that she couldn’t deliver falsified or altered information without the man finding out. 

She backed away once she was finished pouring but had remained in the corner of the room well within hearing range.

“You didn’t know,” the Imp said after a moment of studying his sister’s face. 

“The King does what he will,” the Queen said, and she had to fight not to scoff from where she stood in the shadowed corner. The King had ordered the death of every black haired blue eyed child with no father the moment the late King’s dead brother’s letter had reached his ears, declaring him and his siblings bastards himself. She had never been happier to have red hair in her life, bastard she may be, and blue eyes she may have, but her fire touched hair could not be mistaken. 

“The King may do what he will but what happens if the people rise up? Jamie took half of the goldcloaks with him along with much of the Lannister guard that was stationed here to join father. A stupid move not only because of the unrest of the common people but also because of the reports of both Renly and Stannis marching towards King’s Landing,” the Imp said. She would have to make note that he seemed smarter than the rest of the family. 

“Jaime and father have gone to collect my son and daughter from those Northern savages,” the Queen hissed and she almost beared her teeth and growled from where she stood in the corner. She was a Northerner herself and they certainly weren’t savages. 

“The North never has and never will be conquered by a marching force! They would not harm your children, they are important hostages and Eddard Stark has that much honor at least. Father will send Jamie back with at least half of the army to counter both of the Baratheon’s, and the other half will harry the Riverlands and Lady Stark’s home. I can only hope that the King doesn’t do anything to acerbate the situation any further. We need to keep peace not make more enemies,” the Imp said. Yes, Ros thought, she would certainly be telling Lord Reed of the intelligence the Imp seemed to display. Perhaps it was also time to play the whore persona again. There were likely many agents on the Queen herself but how many were set on the Imp? He had never been much of a player before this point.


	15. Targaryen Wolf King

Jon had never felt more nervous than he did in this moment. All of the Northern Lords and their sons or in the case of house Mormont, Lady Maege and her only child a young girl the same age as Arya, named Lyanna were in attendance in the great Hall. Jon’s Uncle moved towards the front of the room where there was a raised dais, upon it was a throne. A throne that had not been seen for almost three hundred years, since Torrhen Stark, the last King of Winter who had bent the knee to Westeros’s first Targaryen King. His Uncle Eddard had already explained to both Jon and the rest of his family as to what was going to happen, the symbolism that Eddard was going to try and evoke, of the Starks once more kneeling before a Targaryen King, only this time the King was also going to be a Stark.

Jon had a plan of his own as well, something he hadn’t even told his uncle, afraid that if he did his uncle would turn the honor Jon was going to try to give him down. If he did it in front of all of his uncle’s banners though, and did it as the King honoring one of his Lords, his uncle would have no choice but to accept. He bit at his lips nervously and Robb patted him on the shoulder, unnoticeable to all but those closest to him. Three men stood completely cloaked in grey in the shadows behind the Winter Throne. Ser Arthur Dayne and ser Oswell Whent of the Kingsguard had arrived three days before the first Lord and had remained hidden unlike ser Barristan Selmy, whose presence had already become common knowledge, Cersei having sent out ravens calling for Eddard’s head. Jon nodded towards the two cloaked men and steeled himself for what was to come.

“My Lords,” Eddard called out and everyone quieted. “And My Ladies,” he added. “All of us here are of the North. All of us here have shared in the North’s triumphs, but we have also shared in its agony,” Lord Stark paused as the Northern Lords cheered and stamped their feet, before raising his hand to quiet them. 

“Less than eighteen years ago, I called you all to ride south with me, to avenge your Lord, my father, and my brother. I called the Northern Banners together to support Robert Baratheon of the House Baratheon in his bid for the Crown. I did this not because he was my friend, though he was, but because I was of the belief that the Targaryen Prince, Heir to the throne was not only mad as was his father but that he had stolen my sister,” Eddard said. The room was silent; all eyes were upon him as he spoke. 

“Robert though my friend was not a good King. He was made to command, but only in war. He was blind to the duties of his crown, and of his throne, but he was blind in so much more,” Eddard made a motion with his hand and ser Barristan stepped forward, Marcella and Tommon on either side of him. Despite his age he still cut an impressive figure in the white and gold of his Kingsguard armor and cloak. Jon watched Marcella take a deep breath and let it out slowly before she spoke. He voice though high was clear and loud.

“Across the Kingdoms I am known as Marcella of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister, Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, my brother beside me as Tommon of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister Prince of the Seven Kingdoms,” Marcella said. Some of the Lords shifted uncomfortably. There were a few who already knew the rumors of Lord Stark kidnapping the Princess to be true but still many of the Northern Lords had not thought it possible, for the ‘Quiet Wolf’ to have actually done such a thing and had rejected the ravens that carried such words out of principle.

“The titles that have been given to me and my brother are wrong, and are lies. I am not of the House Baratheon, and neither is my brother Tommon. I am not a princess, nor he a prince, and my elder brother is no King. The line of succession is not continued for Robert Baratheon fathered no legitimate children. I along with both my brothers are the baseborn children that my mother passed off as legitimate heirs. My mother lie not only with another man, but also a man of the Kingsguard sworn to never father children but that is not the worst of such a crime. She laid with her brother, a man who I once called uncle when in actuality he is my father. Therefore I state here and now, I am not Princess Marcella of the Houses Baratheon and Lannister but Marcella Waters, just as my brother beside me is Tommon Waters and my brother sitting upon the Throne is Joffrey Waters,” Marcella said her voice never wavering despite the subject on which she was speaking.

“For that reason, know this, Lords,” Marcella nodded towards the two Mormonts, “And Ladies, that my brothers and I have no claim to the throne, this day or any day.” Eddard stepped forward even as Marcella and Tommon stepped back holding one another’s hands in comfort and support. Ser Barristan stepped to the side but not back into the shadows as the two young Waters did. 

“You hear now, from the mouth of Cersei Lannister’s own daughter of the illegitimacy of King Robert’s legacy. So I say now. The North will not and will never support Cersei Lannister or her children’s claim to the throne!” Lord Eddard said he voice rising louder and louder the longer he spoke. Though Eddard remained silent after that statement as did the rest of the Stark family, but the Northern Lords did not, however notably both Lord Bolton and his son remained silent and slightly pensive. They shouted about whose claim they should support. Most of the Lords had been in the midst of traveling but word had already gotten around of both Renly and Stannis attempting a claiming of the Iron throne. Finally amidst all of the shouting a female voice rang high and true, causing all the men to fall silent and listen, as Maege Mormont stood tall and spoke loud. 

“We know no King but the King in the North, whose name is Stark. I chose you. The North will follow you. We don’t choose, Queen Cersei, her child, or any southern King. What you said is true, King Robert was not a good King, but he was your friend and you were our Liege Lord who chose him. But I say now once more; we know no King but the King in the North, whose name is Stark!” With her final words the room was filled with Northern shouts only this time in synchronization of the words,

“King in the North, King in the North, King in the North, King in the North.” The chant continued until Eddard raised his hand quieting them once more. 

“I did not call you all here today to raise myself as King,” the men once more began their shouting and Eddard was forced to use his Alpha Shout.

“ENOUGH!” and everyone went quiet. For a moment he was silent as well, before he began to speak once more. “I did not call you all here today to raise myself as King,” Eddard paused again. “But I say now the North will not follow a Lannister King, nor a Baratheon one, nor Arryn, Martell, Tyrell, Tully, or Greyjoy. Rather we will follow a King that is both the Blood of Old Valyria and of the First Men.” The Northern Lords looked confused and rightfully so as only a select few understood who Eddard was speaking of. 

“Less than eighteen years ago I raised the Northern banners and went South to avenge my fallen family members. Sixteen and a half later I rode home with a wife and two babes, both of which I claimed as my own, one a trueborn son and another as a bastard. But this was not true,” Eddard said. This was Jon and the Kingsguard’s queue. They stepped forward ser Barristan moving with them as they removed their hoods and the grey cloaks that covered their distinctive armor. Jon moved up to stand beside his uncle. The Northmen looked on in surprise, though it took a few a little longer to understand.

“I brought home my trueborn son Robb Stark but the other babe I brought home was not my own but still a Stark. I brought home the trueborn son of my sister Lyanna of the House Stark, and Rhaegar Targaryen. I brought home Jon Targaryen First of his Name, Blood of Old Valyria, Rightful King of the Andels and First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms and Lord of the Realm,” Eddard paused a moment then continued, “I brought home my nephew.”

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

It took him great effort to move around and he required a walking stick at times for balance and to rest his weight partially on, but Benjen was just very happy he could walk at all. According to Mance Rayder he was lucky he had legs on which to walk let alone toes. Mance told him the old gods must have blessed him as not a single limb, not even a toe or a finger was lost despite the fact that he had walked for almost two days without rest or cloak, with snow soaked boots, and in the bitter freezing winds of Beyond the Wall. Mance had also whispered something about the old gods making a handsome choice but Benjen was also quite out of it at the time and didn’t truly know what the man had meant or even if that was what he said.  
Despite all of that and even with however slow he moved, and however weak he was, to the Wildlings or the Free Folk as they preferred to call themselves he was still a ‘Crow’ and therefore untrustworthy, at least to most. Some of them watched him in a way he truly couldn’t figure out as it looked something like awe, something which caused him a lot of confusion. The large redheaded man named Tormund who had made his dislike of Benjen well-known was assigned to follow him wherever he went. 

Today however he had been asked, though he’d perceived that it was more of an order, to attend to the tent of Mance Rayder, where there was to be a meeting of Clan leaders, this was the tent of the man who was one of the only reason’s Benjen’s throat hadn’t been slit while he’d been here, not to mention the only reason he was even here and not frozen solid in an ice field, at least that was how Benjen saw it. According to Tormund, his wildling guard, his questions about the dead would be answered there, since they hadn’t been answered yet no matter how many times he’d asked the past week. 

Tormund quite obviously still didn’t trust Benjen and took great pleasure in calling him a Crow. Benjen didn’t actually see where the insult of being called a Crow was but he humored the fire-touched wildling nonetheless. Despite Tormund’s distrust, his young female cousin, a Beta according to Benjen’s nose, with the same flaming locks as the Alpha man seemed to like being around him and answering his questions about the Free Folk and their culture. She had had a habit of saying, “You know nothing Benjen Stark,” but he didn’t mind even if he didn’t completely understand what she meant. He figured if he ever returned to the Wall it would be good for him to be able to give Maester Aemon accurate information to update the books on the Wildings. 

He learned more about the various clans of wildlings in the week he’d been here and awake than all of his years at the wall. Several more clans had arrived at the large gathering. His week here had also confirmed the whispers and rumors at Castle Black that the wildlings had been gathering together under a new King, though the wildlings were still obviously adamant that ‘they did not kneel’. From Benjen’s understanding their king had been voted into his position, much as Lord Commanders of the Night’s Watch was, by the leaders of the Wildling Clans. The ‘King Beyond the Wall’ though he was not known as such by the wildlings, was none other than Mance Rayder himself. 

Benjen stepped forward leaning a little more heavily on his walking stick. When he’d woken his knees had been creaky and sore. The more he moved however the easier it would be so he kept walking, moving towards the tent he’d been ordered too. The Free Folk had provided him with a tent of his own, though it was always guarded, and had ensured Benjen had a warm bedroll and extra furs as well. Truly Benjen owed Mance his life, but he still wished to go back to the Wall. 

Suddenly Benjen slipped the snow under his foot having concealed a small loose rock and he flailed backwards dropping his walking stick. Arms caught him before his ass could come crashing to the ground, pulling him into a strong body behind him. For a moment Benjen was still waiting for Tormund who he believed was the one to catch him before the scent in his nose registered in his brain. He stiffened and the person behind him helped him stand steadier on his feet. 

“Careful now,” said the man behind him, “We wouldn’t want you falling into my arms for a third time would we?” Mance asked rhetorically before letting go of Benjen who stood steady once more. Mance studied Benjen’s much younger face before turning and continuing on to his tent leaving Benjen behind to continue hobbling. Tormund stepped forward from where he’d been standing off to the side and picked up Benjen’s walking stick and passing it too Benjen before examining Benjen with his head tilted slightly. 

“I suppose I can see it,” the man said before beginning to turn away. Benjen was confused.

“See what?” Benjen asked but Tormund kept walking. “See what you piss for brains bastard?!” Benjen shouted frustrated, and still in a good amount of pain. Tormund chuckled and turned. 

“Good to hear a bit of fire in you Crow, maybe the greenseers are right, maybe you just might be the one to lead us beside Mance. But I suggest you be careful who you insult. Not everyone is as nice as I am and I’m sure Mance would like you to stay a pretty crow,” Tormund said before turning and continuing on leaving Benjen for the first time without a guard.


	16. Walk Through the Fire

Tyrion sat at the small council table with his sister and nephew. Joffrey’s coronation had occurred only a few days ago but already the King, little more than a boy was well on his way to being even more hated than King Aerys Targaryen had been before Jaime had shoved a sword through the King’s back. The boy upon hearing of the contents of Stannis’s letters hadn’t simply rebuked their words and announced them a lie as any sane man would but had ordered the death of every black haired blue eyed bastard within the city, and had even sent men after a group of men and boys after a Nights Watch Recruitment party when Lord Varys had announced that one of the boys travelling to the Wall was in fact one of Robert’s bastards. Not only had such a thing fostered hatred towards the King and in turn his family it had cast further aspersions upon who Joffrey’s father truly was. After all if it wasn’t true the King wouldn’t feel threatened by mere children. 

“Uncle,” Joffrey said. “Why are you even here? You are not a member of my small council,” the boy King said. 

“No, I suppose I am not, but you seem to be missing a few members, such as a Master of Laws, and Master of Ships, and even a Lord Hand. I had hoped to prove myself at least somewhat useful to you and take over one of these appointments, to allow your kingdom to run smoothly of course,” Tyrion said keeping the disdain he held towards his nephew from his voice. 

“I’m glad you know your place, Uncle,” Joffrey his voice filled with contempt. “You may consider yourself my Master of Laws until I find someone more worthy. It won’t take long I assure you,” Joffrey continued practically dismissing Tyrion, even as Cersei glared at Tyrion. He knew his sister hated him but surely she could see that perhaps together they could temper the boy’s worst faults. If they didn’t they wouldn’t have to wait for Stannis to take the city and remove their heads, the common people would do that for him. 

“What of my other children Lord Varys,” Cersei said impatiently. 

“Yes Lord Varys,” Joffrey said, “What has become of my beloved siblings?” Tyrion could feel the thinly veiled hatred Joffrey seemed to hold in his voice when he spoke of his siblings. Tyrion glanced towards his sister who seemed oblivious. His sister was blinded by her love for her children and couldn’t see the monster her eldest truly was. Varys caught his eye before seeming to put all of his attention towards the King and his Queen Mother, Tyrion glanced towards Petyr who looked as smug as ever. Tyrion was intelligent enough not to trust anyone in this city but Petyr he trusted even less than the rest. Tyrion’s attention was brought back to Varys as the eunuch spoke. 

“There is no word your Grace,” Varys said. “The North has completely cut themselves off, the few little birds I’ve managed to get in the North over the years have gone completely silent. We were lucky that the Heir of House Waxley had been in White Harbor else we’d not even know that Princess Marcella was in the North. The only thing I can say is that Lord Eddard is well known for his honor, even with the kidnapping of the Princess. Prince Tommon and Princess Marcella, hostages they may be are likely being well treated,” Varys said. 

“What use are you if you cannot even do your job properly!” Cersei raged, “We need information from the North and if you cannot do so you will be replaced by someone who can,” Cersei said. 

“The North is not our only enemy,” Tyrion interjected before his sister could lose any more decorum. “What information have you of the Baratheon brothers?” Tyrion asked. “They have both made separate claims, are we to believe that they both have equal backing? Do we know any of their plans, any allies outside of the Stormlands? Is the North supportive of either of their claims?” Varys cleared his throat before beginning his report. 

“I have more information concerning Renly than Stannis. Stannis does not have near the amount of support that Renly has. Stannis’s largest supporters are of course House Florent his wife’s house, but they can field little more than three thousand men, over half of what the dour man seems to have. He is in no position to engage in a march to King’s Landing. When he first fled the city however he took almost a third of the royal fleet with him. I would suggest that the harbor be barricaded and every ship in and out is thoroughly searched, for the possibility of traitors or those who may be supplying resources such as food or perhaps even weapons. As the North had a well off fleet as well this may help us in that regard too, though the North hasn’t seemed to declare for one of the Baratheon brothers either,” Varys said. 

“And what of my traitor Uncle Renly?” Joffrey asked his voice still coldly cruel. Behind his seat ser Meryn Trant and the Hound both shifted their weight so that their legs didn’t fall asleep. 

“Almost all of the Houses that don’t support Stannis have declared for Renly. The noticeably absent have been house Selmy, Lord Arystan Selmy has not declared for Stannis or Renly but has not sent the Crown any indication of their support either. I do not believe we can count on them, perhaps they are somehow in league with the North given that the kingsguard ser Barristan took Marcella North with Lord Stark. I have yet to find out how they came to be allies however,” Varys said. 

“That man is not a Kingsguard, my father declared him a traitor the moment we found he had stolen my sister away, before we knew he went North with Stark. Do not refer to him as a member of the kingsguard,” Joffrey hissed. 

“Apologies your Grace,” Varys said. “Another Stormlands House that has not declared for Stannis or Renly is House Trant, rather noticeably they have declared for King Joffrey,” Varys continued giving a nod to the Ser Meryn who stood behind the King. 

“Of course, House Trant has always been loyal to their true King,” Cersei said brushing the news off. Tyrion had known for years that ser Meryn had been one of Cersei’s rather than one of Robert’s but it was always good to have confirmation. “The banners of House Dondarrion have also been noticeably absent from both Baratheon camps and we have yet to receive word of their support to the Crown as well. I will note that Lord Beric was in residence at Starfall for two weeks before returning home and seeming to tighten the guard around the entrance to the Boneway. Perhaps he has received information that Dorne plans to break free of the Crown though I’ve not heard any such whispers and is pre-emptively planning to hold against the Dornish. Although I would suspect such information would warrant a raven or even a rider,” Varys said. 

“Is that all?” Cersei asked. 

“Alas it is not,” Varys said. “There is movement within the Reach though I’ve yet to confirm who exactly they will be marching for. I suspect Renly given Loras’s,” Varys paused to find the right word, “Proclivities.” 

“For once Lord Varys, I know something you do not,” Petyr Baelish said, finally breaking his silence. “The Reach does plan to march for Renly Baratheon, and Margaery Tyrell is to be his Queen upon the urging of her father,” Baelish said. Tyrion grit his teeth. Whether or not the accusations thrown by Stannis about Cersei’s children were true it would seem that they were without any allies. He could only hope that his father decided against harrying the Riverlands in an effort to antagonize the North. For now his niece and nephew were most likely safe, and their enemies in the South would be far more dangerous. It was doubtful the Vale would march for them led as they were by the rather mad Lady Arryn and Dorne had a rather long lasting hatred of all things Lannister. 

“Perhaps we should attempt to arrange an alliance with the Tyrells ourselves?” Tyrion said. “What has Renly offered them? Perhaps we can be more,” Tyrion paused, “Convincing?”

“There is a possibility,” Baelish said. Those sitting at the table including the few who didn’t seem to truly be participating in the conversation looked to the man silently asking for him to elaborate. 

“Do go on Lord Baelish,” Tyrion said finally cursing the man’s seeming penchant for drama. 

“It is to my understanding that the Tyrells have lost gold in the recent years since the North has been becoming more independent and buying smaller and smaller amounts of food and usually for a better price from the Riverlands. Already we are facing shortages within the city, if we promise to buy solely from the Reach perhaps we can sway them to our side,” Baelish said. 

“And what of Lord Tyrells aspirations for his daughter? He clearly wants her to be Queen,” Cersei said. Tyrion hid a smirk at the slight tone of jealously she seemed to speak with. 

“What better way to solidify an alliance but marriage?” Baelish asked. 

\-------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys’s heat fever had just ended when he was thrown into a vision. It had only been five days since his sister and her husband’s Khalasar had left him behind with a small amount of guards and servants as well as ser Jorah Mormont but the stomach wrenching wrongness he had felt seeing Daenerys leave had only been amplified. He screamed in horror within his mind as he saw and almost felt the magic of a Magi his sister begged to heal her husband. In real life he let loose a scream of anguish as his eyes flashed open and were solidly white, when he saw the magic kill his sister’s child within her. He gasped as he came back to reality knowing he only had a little time before what he had seen would come to pass, a day perhaps two at the most. He ordered everyone to pack up immediately and be ready to ride. He mechanically ate the food ser Jorah passed to him and helped with as much as he could before they were on their way. 

That evening ser Jorah had to force Jaehaerys to allow them to stop, convincing him that the horses could be pushed no further else they would perish and it would take far more time for them to walk the rest of the way than it would be to ride. Jaehaerys agreed but ordered that no tent be set up. It was warm enough that they could sleep under the stars and ride quickly again in the morning. He could only hope that he wouldn’t be too late.


	17. Northern Tempers

Benjen was still muttering angrily about red headed wildling twats when he finally reached the tent. He leaned heavily on his walking stick as he pushed open the flap and all but stumbled in. All eyes of the attending clan leaders turned towards him. 

“What the fuck to you doing here Crow?” one of the clan leaders asked. One Benjen recognized having heard his description from fellow rangers. The bone helm and shirt of thin bones marked the wildling as Rattleshirt also known as the Lord of Bones. As intimidating as the man tried to be he didn’t scare Benjen all that much, too much posturing perhaps. 

“I asked him to come,” Mance said, loudly regaining control of the tent. Benjen continued moving forward sticking his walking stick right on top of Rattleshirt’s boot and grinding down with his weight causing the man to yelp even as he stepped forward closer to the rest of the group of clan leaders. 

“You said my questions about the dead would be answered,” Benjen said. 

“You don’t get to ask questions,” said the singular Thenn in the tent, “Merely give us answers, else I might just find myself craving a bit of Crow for dinner.” 

“Enough!” Mance said, but Benjen didn’t let the Thenn’s words go. 

“Not enough meat on these cold Stark bones to make a good meal, I’m afraid you’ll have to fatten me up before you eat me for dinner,” Benjen said giving way to his sarcastic nature. 

“A Stark? Beyond the Wall?” the Thenn said before turning to Mance. “Is he,,,” Mance cut him off before he could continue. 

“The greenseer Wren confirmed it yes,” Mance said and all the leaders looked at him more appraisingly than they had a minute ago. 

“There is no fucking way I’m following anything this Crow says, greenseer or no. He’s a southern cocksucking piece of shit,” Rattleshirt said. Benjen was annoyed and frustrated that he didn’t understand half of the conversation that had just gone on since there seemed to be a hidden context that everyone but him knew and it greatly colored what he did next. Planting his feet he swung his walking stick up into the juncture between Rattleshirt’s legs causing the man to come crashing down with a groan. 

“Now I can deal with being called a cocksucker, it’s true after all. I can deal with being called a piece of shit but Southern? I was a fucking,” Benjen balanced on his walking stick and good leg kicking out with the weaker one to hit Rattleshirt in the stomach rattling his shirt and bruising beneath, “Stark,” kick, “of,” kick, “Winterfell,” kick, “before,” kick, “I,” kick, “went,” kick, “to,” kick, “the,” kick, “Wall,” kick. Benjen was panting by the end of it but no one had stopped him and his rage and frustration had finally bled out. As he turned back to the greater group Tormund spoke. 

“Told you he had a bit of fire in him Mance. I’ll not disagree with the greenseers words,” the large red headed man said with a grin in Benjen’s direction. Benjen’s rage sparked once more.

“If you don’t tell me what the fuck you keep talking about you poxy-arse motherfucking piss for brains wildling bastard I’m going to light your hair on fire and you’ll truly be fire touched,” Benjen said using his walking stick to point at Tormund. Only a few feet away the Thenn burst into uncontrollable laughter.

\-------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------

It had taken time for the Northern Lords to truly take in what their Liege Lord had told them that night. Jon knelt in the godswood staring at the hearttree as though it might just have the answers to how he was supposed to do this. Eddard had raised him with the full knowledge of who he’d one day be, and how to do his duties but still it was overwhelming. He thought back to what felt like ages ago but was just a week and a half ago, when for the very first time his heritage was spoken of openly and he claimed who he was heart and soul in front of the whole assemblage of Northern Lords.   
\---------Flashback--------

The moment Eddard had fallen silent again the Northern Lords broke out into loud arguing. Still silent the two Boltons seemed to be looking at their liege in a whole new light. Had Jon not learned how to keep his emotions and thoughts masked at the literal knee of ser Arthur Dayne, he might have laughed aloud at their flabbergasted faces. Finally it would seem his uncle had had enough of the Northern Lords shouting. 

“Enough!” Eddard shouted using his Alpha voice for the second time that evening and even Jon felt his knees quake as he fought not to submit despite knowing that the order was not directed towards him. Everyone quieted but then the Umber Heir stood and shouted out, 

“You expect us to support a Targaryen? After all that House has done to the North? After what that House has done to your family? Even if the boy is trueborn son and your sister went willingly with Prince Rhaegar his grandfather still burnt our Liege Lord and his heir, your father and your brother!” Small Jon shouted. Eddard opened his mouth to speak again even as several of the Northern Lords murmured their agreements and nodded their heads. Jon stepped forward placing his hand on his uncles arm, trying to convey that it was his turn to stand, for if he continued letting Eddard fight for him rather than doing so himself then they never would.

“What you say is true,” Jon said almost surprised that his voice didn’t crack or shake. “My family has done great harm to the North and the House of Stark, but you all forget something. I may be a Targaryen by name, but I am a Stark by blood. I have been raised a Stark. Most of you had never seen me before arriving to Winterfell in these past few days. I was not in Winterfell during the last Lord’s Moot but I heard your whispers when you thought me Lord Stark’s bastard. You spoke of how I seemed to be Brandon Stark reborn, how I had the Stark look. In fact I believe it was you Lord Umber who I heard say that I looked as somber as the man who raised me, the man you believed to be my father. Perhaps however none of this will assure you that the North, that the Stark’s will still hold importance should you support me in taking my rightful place as King of the Seven Kingdoms,” Jon said. The Northern Lords whether they realized it or not were captivated by Jon’s speech. On the back wall beside Jory and Martyn Cassel and a few other Winterfell men at arms, Theon seemed to be filled with complete shock and surprise, having gone almost sheet white and trembling lightly, at the realization that the subject of his childhood torment was in actuality the true king. 

“But to prove to you that I intend to honor what my Uncle has done, what he’s risked to keep me safe, not only will I be marrying his eldest daughter, the beautiful Northern rose,” with this Jon motioned to Sansa who stepped forward understanding exactly what he was doing. Eddard had been correct, even if he hadn’t consulted either of them before deciding, a Stark wife would bring him further than not having one. Sansa took Jon’s outstretched hand not commenting at its clammy nature given his nervousness. He’d have to get used to public speaking, he’d be doing a lot of it after all. “Ensuring that not only will your King be half Stark but your Queen will be a wolf as well,” Jon continued. The Lords cheered at that but Jon was not done. He turned to look at Eddard. “But no longer will the Starks just be the Lords of the North, for the man I am proud to call Uncle did far more than just raise me, he risked himself and his entire family to keep me safe from someone he called friend. From this day forward the House of Stark will not be a Lordly house but a Princely one. All Hail Prince Eddard Stark!” Jon finished his speech with a flourish and shout and once more the Northern Lords erupted this time with cheers of joy and excitement. 

“Well done,” Sansa whispered in Jon’s ear, “He’d never have accepted it had you not offered it otherwise.” Jon chuckled and whispered back sending a wide grin at his uncle even as Eddard shot him a sidelong glare before turning back to the Northern Lords who had stood to slap his back and congratulate him,

“Why do you think I did it now?”

\------Flashback End---------

A hand touched Jon’s shoulder bringing him out of his thoughts as he glanced up. It was Sansa, her hair loose but for a few small braids holding her vibrantly red locks all away from her face. Jon stood clenching and unclenching his leg muscles trying to get rid of the stiffness. 

“Are you alright Jon?” Sansa asked.

“I believe so,” Jon said. “I was praying and thinking.” Jon said leading his wife to be over to the stone bench that Lady Catelyn had ordered made and brought to the godswood years ago when she realized just how often her Lord husband could be found in front of the hearttree and not wanting to sit upon the ground though still wanting to be near him. Jon sat with Sansa beside him. Though Jon knew they were there the Kingsguard had made themselves invisible enough to give him and Sansa a sense of privacy. 

“Just what had you thinking so hard?” Sansa holding one of Jon’s hands in both of her own.

“The future,” Jon said. “In three days we will be husband and wife. You will remain here with, Rickon, and Lady Catelyn to hold Winterfell while I go South to take a throne that I’ve never even seen. This is my home, and though I know I must, I don’t wish to leave,” Jon said. 

“Aye,” Sansa said raising her hand to Jon’s cheek. “I will remain here, but Robb and Arya will be with you, and Theon.” Jon laughed. 

“Theon is still avoiding me,” he said. Sansa smiled.

“Although I’m sure part of it is because he no longer knows how to act around you I’m fairly certain that any Omega who’d gone into an unexpected heat and thrown themselves at an Alpha would avoid said Alpha for a while,” Sansa said. 

“Aye, you’re probably right,” Jon said.

“You’d best get used to it,” Sansa said before wrinkling her nose. “How come it was ser Arthur that served as Theon’s heat mate? I thought the Kingsguard only served the royal family for such needs?” 

“There wasn’t time to get someone from the whorehouse, it was unexpected. We all knew he was an Omega but he hasn’t ever had a heat,” Jon answered.

“Perhaps we should have expected it then,” Sansa said and Jon nodded. “Has father talked to you about him yet?” 

“Aye,” Jon said, “We didn’t decide without his consent though.”

“What kind of choice did he have?” Sansa asked. 

“Father gave him two choices; he could come south with us, as a hostage and as agreed upon when he was first taken from the Islands he would return upon his twenty first nameday. He wouldn’t be forced to fight but no doubt he wouldn’t be trusted either. Or he could be married to form an alliance for us, and become a true ally of our family,” Jon said. 

“Which did he chose?” Sansa asked. Jon snorted. 

“Like you don’t already know,” Jon said. “The man that swore himself to Arya was in the room, and I know all about your sisterly gossiping with Marcella. I saw that Alys Karstark and Lyanna Mormont have joined in with you.” Sansa grinned showing off pearly white teeth wolfishly.

“Aye both are rather good at getting information from their families. Lyanna is even more of a spitfire than Arya although she seems to be far rougher than Arya. She took well to Marcella though, even if Alys is a little more reserved about her. What I don’t know however is who Theon’s choices of marriage partners were,” Sansa said. 

“Well given that Theon is not technically family even if he was raised like a Stark much as I was there were limited options families that were already closely allied but would still benefit from a renewal of alliance, the Vale, or the Riverlands, so your cousin Robert Arryn and Uncle Edmund Tully respectively. He chose Edmund, I think because at least there he’d at least have access to the boats and water even if they are only fishing boats. I think despite all that happened and knowing that his father would never truly want him back he still misses the feel of being on a ship, he is not meant for the sky and I fear he’d waste away were he sent to the Vale,” Jon said. 

“Probably,” Sansa agreed. “He always smells of old wood when he speaks of the Iron Islands,” Jon smiled softly. 

“Uncle Ned sent the raven to Riverrun yesterday. Most likely your grandfather will agree to the match, and they will be married in a few weeks when we arrive, as long as we don’t face much fighting from the Lannisters of course. Bran and Jorjen both had dreams that they would be in the Riverlands but moving South. Apparently the Baratheon brothers are both marching to King’s Landing, though they are not allied. Neither can see who will win though Bran kept saying he saw a shadow and that it blocked everything,” Jon said before sighing as he heard Lady Catelyn calling out for Sansa. 

“You’d best go,” Jon said. “It’s probably for your dress or another wedding thing that needs to be taken care of.” 

“I can see that I’ll be doing most of the fine planning when we rule in King’s Landing,” she teased back as they both stood. Jon laughed. 

“I think you’ll be a far better Queen to the people than I’ll ever be as a King,” Jon whispered standing right in front of Sansa. 

“You’ll be a good King,” Sansa said. “You have already done all you can for both sides of your family after all.”

“Aye,” Jon said. “I can only hope that ser Barristan and ser Cassel find my aunt and uncle soon. Even Howland had little information about their whereabouts except that they both survived an assassination attempt in the Dothraki city almost a moons turn ago.”

“Ser Barristan is a loyal kingsguard and will do everything he can, and I’m certain ser Rodrick will do all he can to ensure he’s proven he deserves the white cloak you gave him, despite the fact that he’s not of a noble house,” Sansa said. 

“I’d have given his brother Jory a cloak as well had the man not already been married with a child,” Jon said. 

“I didn’t say I disagreed with the decision,” Sansa said. “Although father certainly didn’t, though I believe that was more for the fact that you were taking his Master at Arms than the fact that ser Rodrick isn’t noble,” Sansa said as Lady Catelyn entered the godswood. 

“Sansa!” she called, “There you are. Did you not hear me calling?” she asked, “I have been searching everywhere for you. Your Grace, you’d best come too, the smith will need your measurements as well.”

“Measurements from the smith mother?” Sansa asked releasing Jon’s hand as she turned to look at her mother.

“We don’t have any of the traditional crowns as they are all in King’s Landing but I’ve commissioned for two circlets. Your father is helping me organize for a small coronation in front of the Northern Lords directly following the initial hearttree ceremony before the wedding feast,” Lady Catelyn said. “Now come along.” And they both did knowing not to try and fight it.


	18. It All Burns Down

I apologize for the wait this was a really hard chapter to write and I wanted to make it perfect for ya’ll. 

The moment they entered Khal Drogo’s camp they knew there was something wrong. There were significantly less people here than there had been when they had left Jaehaerys behind for his heat. At first Jaehaerys thought they had been attacked but there was nothing to indicate that was so, no burnt tents or scores of injured Dothraki moving around. Everything seemed almost, Jaehaerys didn’t know how to describe it, but almost as if everyone was simply going through motions but had no life in them. The people scurrying about reminded him somewhat of the victim of a dementor attack that had been brought into St. Mungos. The boy had been a muggleborn and barely on this side of sixteen. He hadn’t had his soul sucked out due to his elder brother, also a muggleborn having been able to perform the patronus charm in time but it had been a close thing and even they hadn’t been able to tell for a while. The boy had turned his head to look at his brother at one point after having been brought in that had alerted them to the fact that he was still there and that there was still a chance. Unfortunately the shock had resulted in his death in the end. The unspeakables that had been called in theorized that a portion of the boy’s soul had already been sucked before this brother had managed to chase the creature off. It was unfortunate but the quiet almost barely there activity of the boy was being mirrored now within the camp. There was strangely enough a woman chained to a post with a collar round her neck being guarded by two young Dothraki warriors strangely enough. 

Jaehaerys pushed his horse on all the way to Daenerys and her husband’s tent that sat at the center of the camp before practically leaping from his horse in order to get to the tent, to his sister. Rakharo was standing just outside and moved to block Jaehaerys from entering the tent obviously trying to protect his sister who was still within. 

“Move,” Jaehaerys ordered. Despite his station as the disposed King of Westeros he still often had difficulty in commanding and giving orders, likely left over from the ingrained behavior fostered by his elder brother, but he was getting better, influences from his dreams of being Harry and likely from his experiences of being free from his brother’s influence. Unfortunately Rakharo did not recognize Jaehaerys station as a King only Daenerys’s as a Khalessi; as his Khalessi and shifted to continue blocking him. But Jaehaerys wasn’t deterred. Unbeknownst to the young Omega his purple eyes seemed to be on fire when he spoke once more.

“Let me pass to see my sister or you will burn,” Jaehaerys hissed feeling his hands heat up as he channeled his anger into his fingers. For a moment Jaehaerys the man truly didn’t move there was a likely chance that Jaehaerys would do just as he said and burn the man alive. That thought shot fear into him and the fire that had gathered in his hands immediately went cold. Jorah had explained to him and Daenerys the truth of their family, specifically of their father. Rakharo, though Jaehaerys could see the fear on the young Dothraki man’s face the man still hadn’t moved. Though Jaehaerys was glad the young man was so loyal to his sister he wondered where Cohollo or any of the rest of Drogo’s blood riders were. Cohollo was the one most often sent to guard Jaehaerys but he was also Daenerys guard at times when Rakharo was doing other duties and it was a surprise to not see him or any of the other bloodriders Jaehaerys had grown used to seeing, although Cohollo was truly his favorite and had willingly taught him the basics of fighting dirty.

“Rakharo,” Daenerys’s voice came from within the tent softer and seeming to have a broken tone that Jaehaerys had never expected of his sister. “Let him pass,” she ordered quietly, “Please.” Jaehaerys was quick to enter the tent the moment Rakharo moved from his path having heard the very tearful plea that last word had held. A shiver went down his back when he entered. Though he did not have magic in the way he once had he was still sensitive to it and this tent had been saturated with blood magic. 

“Daenerys,” Jaehaerys said in slightly breathless fear as he raced to her side. She lay beside her much larger husband who despite having wide open eyes and a falling and rising chest seemed to be gone from this world. Dany, oh Dany,” Jaehaerys whispered kneeling at her bedside gingerly running his hand over her hair as tears welled in his eyes. His sister looked as though she was close to death herself. “What happened Dany?” Jaehaerys asked quietly fighting to not let the tears fall. “I didn’t see anything, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. 

“It’s not your fault,” Daenerys forced out her voce thick with the sound of her brokenness. Jaehaerys continued gently petting Daenerys’s hair without speaking waiting for her to continue speaking and tell him what had happened while he had been incapacitated and left behind during his heat. 

“I,” Daenerys tried to begin but cut off with a chocked sob and Jaehaerys couldn’t help the tears that began silently falling down his pale cheeks even as he continued petting Daenerys’s hair.

“My husband ordered the raiding of a Lhazar village near here only a day after we left you behind,” Daenerys began speaking almost as though she was trying to set herself and all of her emotion far away from this reality. It wasn’t the healthiest thing to do but it was better than wallowing in the emotion. They’d deal with this together when it came to it as they did most things.

“I ordered some of the Dothraki away from the women not allowing them to be raped. I claimed them as my spoils. One of the riders, a Dothraki by the name of Mago attempted to disobey even after my husband ordered them to respect my orders. My husband,” Daenerys choked as she suddenly couldn’t hold the emotion in once more. “My husband responded to Mago’s challenge, while he won he was wounded. There was a woman, among those I claimed as my own; she said she was a healer,” she sniffled lightly and brushed away a few tears. “I ordered her to heal him but the wound festered anyways. I..I think she made it happen on purpose. He fell off his horse in front of the rest of the Khalasar.” 

“That’s why the camp seems so much smaller,” Jaehaerys said understanding. The Dothraki would never follow someone they didn’t believe was strong enough to lead them and a man who fell from his own horse certainly wasn’t one they would consider strong. 

“They left,” Daenerys whispered. “The witch woman, I thought she had tried to heal him I didn’t know what she really was yet. I demanded that she heal my husband. I thought maybe she was like you, but her magic it was wrong, when I entered the tent my… my baby,” she whispered tears thickly coating her voice making it raspy. Jaehaerys hands flew to her belly letting his magic flow to try and find the child that had been growing within her but it was gone. 

“Daenerys where is he? Where is my nephew?” Jaehaerys asked fearful and yet angry at the witch healer.

“He was stillborn, the witch killed him before he could escape my belly and she swore I’d never have another child, she killed him Jay, SHE KILLED HIM!” Daenerys screamed arms flinging and nails scrapping over his arms like claws drawing blood. 

“Dany! Dany! You need to calm down! Dany please you’re scaring me!” Jaehaerys yelled back as Daenerys continued freaking out. The flap of the tent burst open and ser Jorah and Rakharo burst in. 

“What did you do? What did you do to the Khalessi?” Rakharo yelled at Jaehaerys. 

“Nothing, I asked her what happened and she’s freaked out,” Jaehaerys said as ser Jorah and Rakharo moved to restrain Daenerys even as she went mad. Long lines of weeping red burned down his arms even as he directed his healing into them. The lines healed but the weeping droplets remained, running gently down his arms losing the warmth they once held the longer they were exposed to the open air as Jaehaerys fell to his knees and wept.


	19. In A Coat Of Gold

Tyrion had a headache. He seemed to have them far more often than not these days. He poured himself a half glass of wine before sighing and adding water to thin it down. It wouldn’t do for him to be drunk; after all he was one of the last sane minds in this city that had any power. Already he had arranged for Bronn to become the Commander of the Gold Cloaks and with the surprising help of Lord Varys he had arranged for the man to take over as the Master of Laws while Tyrion shifted to the Master of Ships. Truly Tyrion didn’t know much in the way of ships but it was best to fill in the empty seats of the small council as soon as possible. Uncle Kevin had arrived two days ago in lieu of Tyrion’s own Lord Father to take up position as Hand of the King until Tywin could come himself. His uncle had brought news with him. 

Tyrion’s brother was with half of the Westerland’s army laying a passive siege to Riverrun to try and force negotiations for the two royal hostages, while Tyrion’s father was only two and a half days of decent riding up the road from the Capital, holding Harrenhal, where he would stay until Lord Melwyn Sarsfield could ride from his seat leaving his steward in charge of his seat to take charge of Harrenhal. What would normally be a six or seven day ride through the mountains and fields of the Westerlands and Riverlands greatly hindered by the masses of soldiers meaning the Lord would likely take as long as two weeks to arrive at Harrenhal, added to another two or three to settle in before Tywin handed over the reins followed by two or three days of riding with a retinue to add to the men Uncle Kevin had already brought with him, meant Tyrion didn’t expect to see his father for at least three weeks, perhaps longer if the North managed to march South to help the Tully’s. 

Varys still seemed to have very little information concerning their North most Kingdom, and Tyrion found that very telling. Something was happening in the North and Tyrion knew it would not be to his families benefit. Add that to the words that still proclaimed of Joffrey’s bastard status, fueled further by the boy’s cruelty. Just an hour before the Boy King had ordered ser Ilyn Payne to cut a bards tongue from his mouth because he took offense to a song that the man had sung in a dirty tavern. Personally Tyrion had thought the wording clever, not that he’d be saying that in front of his nephew of course, but the man had alluded to his late brother in law being a pig which was absolutely true but of course Joffrey was beyond caring. The boy gave little thought to those who he was supposed to rule over except to view them as his play things.

Tyrion sighed as he rubbed his head. He’d have to speak with Grandmaester Pycelle, as much as he disliked the old Maester, about getting something to dull the head ache. He’d do so after today’s Small Council meeting. He’d best get going, word was that Baelish had returned to the city and had arrived in the keep only a half hour ago and Varys had hinted that he had information that needed to be heard. 

\-----------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------

As good as he thought himself to be at this kind of thing Tyrion was beginning to hate this room. Or perhaps it was just a certain amount of annoyance towards a few of the people in it. His nephew thankfully had decided he had better things to be doing than coming to a Small Council meeting but unfortunately his sister was still there as was Grandmaester Pycelle, and the ever opportunistic Baelish. Tyrion honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the man had somehow jumpstarted the events that had brought them to this place to begin with. A thought hit him and suddenly Tyrion narrowed his eyes towards Petyr in contemplation. There were rumors surrounding Petyr and the Tully girls, most specifically Lysa, though the woman was now an Arryn. Although Tyrion had been a drunk hedonist before King Robert had left to Winterfell, not that he wasn’t one now but he was unable to indulge near as often as he would have wished, he could recall how close the Master of Coin and Lady Wife of the Late Hand had been. 

He contemplated it further as everyone settled into their places. If Petyr had been the one to jumpstart these events there were a few things that could come under scrutiny. Tyrion had no doubt that Joffrey was in fact his brothers, but he always supported his family, even its more monstrous members, and had always believed the sudden death of Lord Arryn to be attributed to Grandmaester Pycelle upon the orders of his sister. There were many poisons that caused fever before death after all. But there was another possibility. There had been no whispers about the royal children’s parentage for the entirety of the fifteen and a half years Joffrey had been alive, not until a few months ago. If Lord Arryn had begun investigating who had given him the idea? Perhaps the Late King Robert hadn’t been the only man cuckolded out of an heir. After all what better way to ensure the man’s attentions never looked closer to home than to give him a large secret just beyond their grasp? A little maneuvering and manipulation, a mad woman of a wife convinced to poison her husband and Baelish would have his claws in the Eyrie. 

Now that Tyrion thought of it, the young Lord Arryn did not look much like his supposed father. That could be due to his sickly stature but there were other indicators. His hair for one, he had neither the Tully red nor the Arryn blond, but a dull mousy brown, which was still possible considering his maternal grandmother had had brown hair but for the boy to have brown eyes when both his parents had vibrant blue eyes? That was next to impossible, he was only looking for it now on a whim but Petyr’s brown eyes were looking contemplatively back at Tyrion. The eye color, build, and even the facial structure, it was all there. Lord Arryn was not young Robert Arryn’s father rather Lord Baelish was, and yet there was nothing that Tyrion could do with this information. It would not help them at all. Even if the man had been the one to cast the first aspersions towards his family, Tyrion had no proof and if Joffrey, hell if his sister Cersei thought for even a moment that Tyrion’s thoughts were true the man would be executed and as much as he wished it were untrue Tyrion knew they needed the slippery snake of a man’s help, at least, for now.

“Well,” Baelish said once Tyrion had torn his eyes away from the man, masking his face for the revelations he’d just experienced. “I had luck in dealing with the Tyrells,” Baelish said. “And I have far more news concerning our Baratheon enemy.”

“Enemy?” Cersei said holding her cup haughtily as she always did. “Perhaps you’d like to share your information? I believe we are all still under the impression that there are two Baratheon brothers not one. Did one of them do us a favor and drop dead?” The insufferable Master of Coin’s smirk seemed to grow wider. 

“Indeed,” Baelish said. “The day upon my arrival the usurper Renly Baratheon was seemingly murdered by his own Kingsguard, the Lady Knight Brienne of Tarth who has since fled after wounding Loras Tyrell who she fought in her escape quite dearly. In fact the Tyrells quite easily gave their allegiance to the crown after the events,” Baelish said. 

“As they should have from the beginning,” Cersei said sipping at her wine. Tyrion was simply quite jealous. Unlike his dear sister he had no wish for copious amounts of alcohol clouding his mind at such moments like these. Then again he looked suspiciously at her jug; he wouldn’t be surprised if the wine wasn’t well watered. His sister couldn’t possibly have a greater tolerance to the alcohol than him after all. 

“Of course your Grace,” Baelish said nodding towards the Queen. “While Loras is returning home with a small amount of men to ensure his safety in order to recover, the Lady Margaery along with her father Lord Mace will be arriving in about a week. There was also word of the Dowager Lady Olenna and her eldest grandson the heir Tyrell, Willas I believe, to arrive from Highgarden as well,” Baelish continued. 

“Do you know where the Lady Knight Brienne has fled? Perhaps her capture and subsequent release into Tyrell hands should be arranged,” Grandmaester Pycelle said, his voice slightly crackly with age.

“Grandmaester perhaps your years are beginning to catch up with you,” Tyrion said. “Why should we expend more forces to capture a woman who did us great favor? If the Tyrells want justice they may seek it themselves but we should not spend ourselves in this matter.” 

“There is more to consider,” Varys’s voice was smooth and slightly high for that of a male. “There are whispers that the Lady Brienne was not in fact the one to kill Renly Baratheon, but that a shadow, one with the face of his own brother, Lord Stannis was the one to kill him.” Cersei began laughing.

“First you bring us no information from the North, now you want us to believe in gremlins and snarks and fear the very shadows. Lord Varys if this is a joke I am not finding it all that funny. I believe you should stick to actual information if you can,” Cersei said. 

“On that note,” Lord Kevin finally spoke. His voice like the rest of him was scarily similar to that of his older brother, Cersei and Tyrion’s father. “What do we know of the North?” 

“Little to nothing I’m afraid,” Varys said his high voice a little quieter than before. All ships that arrive at any of the Northern ports are carefully watched and none not even the littlest of my birds have been able to sneak past their sharp eyes. Those that is send down the Kingsroad have not even reported back and I fear they never will, likely lost to the swamplands of the neck and their denizens or perhaps even the Crannogmen themselves. The North is preparing for something, likely war. Unfortunately for us Lord Stark is a very unusually patient man, as shown by his past long term projects, such as the Northern Fleet. I was never able to get an accurate accounting due to my little birds having such a difficult time getting into the kingdom before this unusual silence but even then there were times I believed them to be fed false information, but they likely have no less than two hundred war galleys, approximately half that many dromonds as well as a hundred swan ships,” there were eyebrows raised by all, even Lord Baelish as to that information. 

“That’s not counting the five hundred merchant vessels that are parked at their ports as well as beyond here in Essos. Or at least were parked in Essos. Though I have no reach in the North I do in the free cities. Over three hundred ships owned by the North and freelanced out to merchants across the various free cities and as far as the Summer Isles have been recalled and left port, I suspect making their way to the North. Despite the possible in accuracies I might have in that number I have rounded down. With just over sixty ships of the original two hundred ships in the royal fleet missing, added to the fifty ships owned by the Stormlands and therefore Lord Stannis that leaves the royal fleet with only one hundred and forty ships to rely on for protection,” Varys continued. 

“Lady Olenna is a Tyrell, with their alliance we can guarantee at least two hundred more war ships, as well as four hundred or so merchant vessels. Unfortunately with the Starks so nearby on the Western Seaboard and the Ironborn there as well the Lannister fleet will have to remain parked where it is in case of an attack on the Rock or Lannisport,” Lord Kevin said rubbing at his greying beard. “Still the Northern Fleet will have to be split in two, in order to protect both coastlines as their ‘great canal’ isn’t yet complete and war time is not the time in which to do so.” The men of the small council began nodding and the Queen smirked. 

“Unfortunately my dear Lords, and of course my sweet sister,” Tyrion began, “This is no longer true. When we came North with the Late King Robert there was little to see in the way of the Canal along the Kingsroad though it was spoken of and I suspect it was the same for the Royal party on their way home. But when I road through almost three weeks later it was a day perhaps two from completion. I know that the North is considered the least populous of the Seven Kingdoms but a census hasn’t been done since before the Mad King Aerys was on the throne, is suspect with the wealth and trade that has been happening within the Northern Kingdom that its population too has boomed and prospered. There were at least two hundred men working on the canal at any one time. My party and I camped their for the night and learned that the men work in three shifts of eight hours. As they described it eight hours to work, eight hours to play and eight hours sleep. Honestly at the time it was like a mobile tent city, much like what I suspect the Dothraki are like, it held the workers and their families and there were even trade tents. The depth and width of the canal would ensure four ships could sail side by side quiet comfortably. The neck is the narrowest section of the North, not only would the completion of the canal cut off weeks if not months of sailing for trade but it also ensures that the fleet can cross the seaboards in little under a day. There is even a road that has been built alongside it. Not dirt as one would suspect but rock,” Tyrion said.

“Surely you must be exaggerating!” Grandmaester Pycelle said pompously. “The Citadel cannot be that out of date with the population of the Northern Kingdom.”

“Not to mention the cost of such a project,” Kevin said. “Although the North has been doing well in trade I doubt they have that much coin to throw around.” Petyr was nodding along with that. 

“Unfortunately,” Varys said his smooth voice cutting through like silk. “According to a contact I have within the Iron Bank of Braavos, little more than an apprentice Steward but still hearing of little whispers hearing and there, the North has already finished paying for the canal and as of this last year finished paying off their loan for the building of the fleet.”

“Still that mustn’t leave them with much, given that they still have to stockpile food,” Petyr said. I believe upon our last Small Council meeting that I was involved in the Citadel gave us what six years before winter sets in? The North is always hit the hardest and begins their stockpiling first.”

“You would think that, but with their merchant profits they can well afford it, not to mention the amount of glass that has been purchased from Myr and shipped to the North in the past ten years. I suspect that the Northern houses grow enough to feed at least half of their population through the winter and have purchased the other half at reduced rates from the Riverlands. Of course with the Lannister forces burning the Riverlands crops that will be harder yet the whispers from the Iron Bank state that they have over seven million dragons stored there collecting interest. They rival the Iron Throne as the single largest customer. There prompt debt repayment and vast amount of available gold means that when the North marches to war we cannot expect the Iron Bank to support the Crown,” Varys said. 

\---------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break--------------------------------------------------

The eunuch had learned this information through a bird yes, one he shared mutually with a Pentosi Cheesemonger. It had caused them to change a few of their plans. While they had both agreed that Jaehaerys would be the more malleable Targaryen, and suitable to marry young Egg, once they managed to get the Dothraki across the sea a simple accident or hidden blade to take care of the Khal and perhaps a bit of poison to Daenerys’s child and the girl could be married into the North bringing that wealth to the Crown and to the secret Blackfyre King. Of course first they had to find the two wayward Targaryen’s. Young Mormont hadn’t reported in but the sloppy assassin had been caught just as Lord Varys had hoped. He had sent a sloppy one for a reason after all. Varys looked at all the faces at the table. Everyone seemed positively surprised to hear of such a figure. The North had not been well known for their wealth.

“Surely not,” Baelish said, his face almost ghost white. Varys could have laughed. The man had been pilfering both the Crown and Lord Lannister for almost a decade and knew now that the books would be looked at much closer. Most likely the man was going to flee, and now Varys had to decide if he wished to prevent that or let it happen. He had time after all. The Master of Coin would ensure he could squeeze every last drop of everything he could get out of his position before he burned his books and fled. Pity Varys had had one of his more literate birdies copy all of his books. A brothel after all is not the best hiding place. 

“I’m afraid it is true,” Varys said. Beside the Eunuch the Imp rubbed at his head as though staving off a headache or perhaps trying to relieve one. Varys wasn’t sure whether to pity him or giggle.


	20. Kings and Queens and Vagabonds

“Nervous?” Robb asked as he watched the man who had grown up as basically his brother straighten his crisp snow white and already completely straight tunic the scent of hyssop flowing freely. 

“Of course not,” Jon said his voice higher than normal as he fidgeted further. Ser Arthur was chuckling beside Jon’s Lord Uncle at his Prince soon to be crowned King’s discomfort. Unfortunately word had come from the wall that Benjen, Jon’s other Uncle hadn’t yet returned from his ranging and therefore couldn’t ride down to attend the wedding under the guise of picking up supplies for the watch. Jon was rather disappointed as was Sansa but there was little to be done about it. Lord Commander Mormont had promised that he would send Benjen to Winterfell once he returned to the Wall. It was likely that Jon would miss his visit but Sansa would be remaining in Winterfell along with Lady Catelyn and young Rickon when the Northern Army marched south. Unfortunately as they didn’t state just who Sansa Stark would be marrying, not trusting all of those at the wall given just how many men were from some of the southern houses Jon was unable to request that his great granduncle come south to Winterfell.

There was knocking at the door and ser Whent popped his head into the room. Ser Whent was serving as Jon’s Lord Commander of the Kingsguard until ser Barristan returned from across the Narrow Sea. Jon had ordered for ser Barristan and ser Rodrick Cassel the newest member of Jon’s kingsguard to take a contingent of six swan ships, the fastest of the ships among the Northern Fleet to search for Jon’s Aunt and Uncle Jaehaerys and Daenerys. Jon still needed to select a few more men to fill in his kingsguard as he still only had four men. All of those who currently served in Joffrey Water’s Kingsguard were useless or couldn’t be trusted, not to mention the fact the possibility of the royal family growing even larger as there was a likely chance that Sansa would become pregnant as most Omegas did upon their mating and official bonding. Maester Lewin had already confirmed that Brandon was likely pregnant given that he’d missed his expected heat shortly after his own wedding and after Jon and Sansa’s wedding Jorjen would be bringing Brandon home with him to Greywater Watch and would raise the Reed Banners in his father Lord Howland’s stead since the man would be staying with Lord Stark and Jon as the official Spymaster of the Targaryen Reclamation. 

“You look good nephew, today will go just fine. You should hurry and get down to the godswood. Catelyn will have your head if you somehow cause the ceremonies to be late. Robb chuckled. 

“You’d best get over to Sansa then father, mother will be looking for you soon so you can give Sansa away. I’m sure I can get Jon to the hearttree just fine with the help of ser Arthur. 

“Aye that would be wise, although I’m sure your mother has everything well in hand she could probably use some help with Arya,” Eddard said pushing off from the wall he was leaning on and heading towards the door. “I’d say take him out to the training yard to get him out of his head but I’m sure that your mother might actually murder me for suggesting it if he even tears his cloths slightly. She worked hours stitching up the dragon embroidery for him,” Eddard said. “Oh that reminds me.” Eddard walked over to a small trunk that Eddard had brought out of the secret storage behind the portrait on his study wall. For a moment Eddard was silent reminiscing a time long past before he pulled out something made of dark cloth with a splash of blood red. He turned to Jon. 

“This was the cloak your father wrapped my sister in when she married him in front of the hearttree much as you are to marry Sansa in today. I found it in the same tower that I found you and her. It was in your crib and you were wrapped in it. She truly loved you, and although I never met your father I believe he would have loved you as well. You may be my nephew, you may be the rightful King, but you will take care of my daughter, do you understand?” Eddard said as he passed the cloak over his scent filled with wet dirt smell Jon associated with the man’s sadness. His voice had just hint of Alpha in it. Not enough to truly influence but enough to get his point across. “Wrap my daughter in this and protect her with everything you are.”

“Of course Uncle,” Jon said his voice slightly thick with emotion as he took the marriage cloak from Lord Stark’s hands. The fabric was silk and pitch black but the three headed dragon sigil was embroidered with vibrant bloody red the Targaryen words just beneath it, in the same vivacious red in a flowing script. Everyone was silent as Lord Stark left the room. Jon ran his fingers through the almost liquid feeling fabric.

“Fire and Blood,” Robb said quietly. “That’s who you are brother, Fire and Blood, but there’s something you should never forget,” Robb continued. 

“Winter is Coming?” Jon asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Well yes but that was not what I was going to say,” Robb said slightly petulant that he had been interrupted. 

“My apologies,” Jon said motioning for Robb to continue. 

“What I was going to say is to remember; when the snows fall and the white winds blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. Remember we are and have always been your pack,” Robb said.”

“I know brother,” Jon said taking a deep breath. “Shall we head down to the Godswood?”

“Of course,” Robb answered causing ser Arthur to come to full attention.

\---------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break--------------------------------------------------

“That pinches,” Sansa said as her mother attempted to place another pin in her up-done hair. 

“I just can’t seem to get it to sit quite right,” Catelyn said slightly frustrated. 

“I don’t understand why it has to be done in such a complicated way,” Arya asked from where she sat on top of the tall wardrobe her leg hanging down the front as she played lazily with a hair pin that had been carved into the shape of a snarling wolf. Her mother had lost the fight with Arya to make her where a dress, but instead Arya was dressed in tight dark blue leggings and a lighter blue and tan tunic top a leather vest lined with grey fur atop of that. Her sword needle hung from her waist down the side of the wardrobe much like her leg was in the front. Although she supported his sister and thought she was absolutely beautiful Arya was truly becoming bored. Arya’s bodyguard and sometimes teacher Jaquen was just outside the room as he was a male beta and therefore couldn’t be inside the bridal rooms, so Arya was unable to stave off the boredom by playing the lie game with him. 

“All of the Southern ladies wear their hair like this during major events like weddings and balls,” Marcella said beside Sansa where she sat beside Sansa having helped Lady Catelyn with Sansa’s hair. 

“Perhaps we should tone it down a little?” Sansa said. “I don’t think I could sit in this all night not to mention the main reasoning behind mine and Jon’s marriage is to solidify the fact that the North is close to the throne. Incorporating more of the Northern styles into the hair as small as it may seem only helps to solidify our position more,” Sansa said. Pulling out two of the pins letting her hair lay a little more loosely in a simpler and more comfortable style. 

“I think that you look more beautiful than any Southern lady I know,” Marcella said lightly touching one of Sansa’s curls. “I don’t know anyone whose hair is as vibrant as yours; no offense meant to you of course Lady Catelyn.”

“Of course not,” Catelyn said, “Even I can admit that my daughters are more beautiful than I ever was.” On top of the wardrobe Arya let out a very unladylike snort obviously not agreeing that she was more beautiful than her mother but didn’t say anything more. 

“Marcella, I wanted to ask earlier but everything just seemed to keep distracting me, but would you be one of my handmaidens when I go to King’s Landing. It would be a while yet, after the war of course but I would still like to have someone who knows the way the games at King’s Landing are played that I can trust at my side. I trust Arya of course but it’s likely that she will end up in Dorne, or perhaps even remain in the North,” Sansa said. Marcella seemed for a moment to be unable to speak.

“I’d… It would be an honor,” Marcella said. “Are you sure though? Even if I am someone to trust I would also be a liability, the city is full of vultures and I could be a weak point for you,” Marcella said. Sansa took the young Water’s hands into her own. 

“I want you there, vultures or no, you are my friend,” Sansa said. A knock sounded at the door and Arya slid lightly from the top of the wardrobe to land on her toes rocking down softly onto her heals to balance herself before going to the door. She didn’t have to worry about it being anyone who wished to harm Sansa or anyone else already in the room as Jaqen would have dealt with long before they had a chance to knock. Opening the door she saw her father standing there in his best furs, sleek mink, all greyish silver lining the collar of a very light grey leather vest atop his darker grey tunic, matched with black breeches. The Stark Family Weapon, Ice was strapped to his back. Immediately following the marriage ceremonies would be Jon’s coronation and Eddard as Lord Stark would be the first to officially declare his fealty. Maester Luwin had written letters all of the day before and Jon had signed them all as well as sealing them with his personal sigil a white wolf face forward dragon wings extending from its back on a field of black with a circle of red flames encompassing it. Of course as a Targaryen his family’s sigil was still a red dragon of three heads on a field of black but his personal sigil was a herald to the House that raised him as well as his own. 

All of the letters were to fly this evening, one to each of the Great Houses and of course King’s Landing along with a few to some of the larger houses of Westeros or those whom Jon had decided should receive the knowledge by raven of the North rather than whomever served as the House’s Liege Lord. The Houses that received personal ravens despite not being among the Great Houses were the Hightower’s of Oldtown and Hightower a powerful and rich house rivalling even their Liege House the Tyrells. the Dayne’s of Starfall and of High Hermitage though Lord Dayne already knew of Jon’s existence but it would serve as the official notice to rise for Jon’s claim, the Grafton’s of Gulltown a surprisingly well off house due to their ownership of the Vale’s main port, the Selmy’s of Harvest Hall, ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard’s House, the Whent’s of Harrenhal, ser Whent’s House, though according to Howland Lord Lannister currently held Harrenhal, House Royce of the Gates of the Moon who were supposed to be serving as stewards of House Arryn until young Robin came of age to rule the Vale, the Velaryon’s of Driftmark traditionally a Targaryen ally, and last but certainly not the least, House Redwyne of the Arbor, most notably Lady Olenna Tyrell’s maiden House but also holding great influence over not only the Reach but many parts of Westeros due to their extensive export of fine red and white wines. Within a few weeks all of Westeros would know of Jon’s claim and everyone will have picked a side. In the war to come there would be no remaining neutral, at least not for long. 

\-----------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------------

“Mi’lord,” Ros curtsied before entering the study room holding a pitcher of Dornish wine. According to all the intel she had managed to get on Lord Tyrion Lannister otherwise known as the Imp, the man was susceptible to a wine and a pretty face as much as any man. She’d have to be careful, although he was known to be oddly bookish at times the intel she had found on the man had never given away how clearly intelligent he actually was. Then again according to any intel that would be found on her by all but perhaps a few of Lord Reed’s agents she would seem nothing more than a whore who had somehow managed to work her way up to being a royal servant. Being a servant wasn’t the persona she needed now though. 

“Would you like some wine Mi’lord?” she asked as she cataloged the study room. The swordsman, a sellsword, whose name was Bronn according to one of the kitchen servants, was leaning against one wall as Tyrion worked at the heavy wood desk in the center of the room. If either of them were to suspect something to be off about her Bronn would be the immediate danger. The blade that rested against her inner thigh may allow her to defend herself for a moment but unless she got a lucky shot to his neck or groin it was unlikely that she would win in any kind of fight against him. As a sellsword he would fight dirty and would be unlikely to have any qualms about killing a woman. That being said even if something did happen and she managed to kill the sellsword there was always the possibility that Lord Tyrion carried a small blade much like her own and would be able to stab her in the back or perhaps the leg while she attempted to deal with whom she thought was the bigger danger. Her best bet if something happened would be to try and run. 

The door through which she had just entered was one of two exits from the room. If she used it however she’d be within the corridors of the Red Keep only a shout away from being captured and interrogated before being executed. No her best bet would be through the open unshuttered windows that were behind Lord Tyrion overlooking the sea. It was a drop of a few hundred feet into the sea thankfully the cliff extended far enough that it was unlikely to be too rocky but still a risk. She was a decent enough swimmer that she could get to shore and run before the small Lord could send men out to find her. She catalogued all this in only a few seconds before Lord Tyrion spoke.

“I find myself in need something to drink and wine would be lovely,” Tyrion said. Ros smiled lightly and poured a healthy amount into the goblet that Lord Tyrion had pushed forward on his desk. 

“And you Mi’lord?” she asked turning to Bronn the sellsword. The man thrust his cup forward and she moved to fill it, before she could he’d grabbed her and pulled her in close. For a moment she feared the worst before realizing he had pulled her flush against his hips. It wasn’t difficult for her to force a blush and she bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes demurely saying,

“Mi’lord, it’s not proper.”

“I’m not a Lord, and I don’t give a shit about proper,” Bronn said. 

“Let her go Bronn,” Tyrion said. “If you want something to sleep with go down to one of the whorehouses instead of accosting the servant girls.” 

“None of the whores in Littlefinger’s brothels will be as pretty as this girl is,” Bronn said grinding lightly against Ros. Ros giggled lightly well aware that this was a lie simply to get in her skirts. Men always believed they were the first to use such lines and that no other man could be as smart to have used them beforehand. It was never true but she would never tell him that, not when getting close to the sellsword would mean getting close to Lord Tyrion. She didn’t know what information she would find but Lord Reed hadn’t given her a specific mission beyond collecting information of possible value. She’d find something eventually, Lord Tyrion was high enough up and far more susceptible to feminine wiles than either the Queen Mother or the King, even if she had to employ every tricks of the first trade she ever learned to do so. 

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

Benjen was up and walking towards the communal tent to break his fast with the majority of the more important members of the large camp of, Free Folk, as they preferred to be called. Smaller communal tents were set up to serve the clans and their leaders oscillated between the larger tent and the smaller ones that served their clans ensuring that they interacted with their people as well as the other leaders. He was surprised that despite the fact that he no longer had a guard or a need to use a walking aid that he had now real drive to return to the Wall. There was the fact that he missed his family and was unable to visit as he could sometimes do when he served on the Wall but even that didn’t seem to be enough. Perhaps it was because he truly understood what exactly was coming. The day he learned of it would forever be seared into his brain and he would never forget.

\-----Flashback-----

The Thenn, by the name of Styr Benjen later learned held onto his belly as he laughed. It was slightly disconcerting to Benjen and he could tell from the looks everyone else was giving the cannibal that he wasn’t the only one. 

“I like you Stark,” Styr said when he’d stopped his chuckles and regained his breath, “Greenseer dream or no.” Benjen took in a deep breath fighting off his sarcastic nature once again and doing his very best to remain calm asked,

“What exactly did this greenseer dream?” 

“Hmmph, don’t expect you to actually believe in greenseer magic you being a sou….” Rattleshirt cut off at Benjen’s glare before continuing, “Being from the other side of the Wall.”

“My nephew is a greenseer and has married a greenseer,” Benjen said. “I’ve heard first hand his dreams and watched some of them come true, I believe in the magic of the Old Gods. I am a Stark after all.” The clan leaders in the room straightened at that. 

“Perhaps this may be easier than we thought then,” Mance said. “We were all of the belief that you would not only deny the magic of the greenseer’s but perhaps even the walking of the dead despite having seen it with your own eyes.” 

“No man could deny the dead walking after having seen them tear apart your brothers and hunt you,” Benjen said. The widening of everyone’s eyes had Benjen realizing that something he had said had surprised them all.

“You were close enough to see them tear apart your fellow Crow’s?” Tormund asked his disbelieve leaking into his voice. 

“Aye Othor fell before we even knew they were there. Fourty of them at least, rising out from beneath the fresh fallen snow as though they had laid upon the ground immobile as it fell, waiting for the right moment to ambush. At first I didn’t even realize they were dead, just that they were literally tearing one of my brother’s and his horse apart with their bare hands. Then as me and Jafar turned our horses to flee I saw the throat of one of them still moving, only a child, a young girl but it was completely torn out flesh frozen. I’ll never forget the look in those blue eyes. It wasn’t human. They followed with a speed that should have been impossible and before I’d realized Jafar’s horse had missed a step stumbling. I turned my head back to look when I heard the horse scream but there was nothing I could do Jafar was already dead I could see that. His neck was broken. I pushed my horse towards the trees coming up with a mad plan that I still have no idea how it worked. I leaped from my horse into the branches of a tree just after breaking the tree line and out of sight from the dead,” Benjen paused shaking his head his scent was filled with sour smell of lemon, a fruit he absolutely detested. It was the scent of his fear. “I clung trembling to that branch for what seemed like hours after the they passed following the trail and noise my horse made as it fled. The fear I felt coming down should have been debilitating but it was probably one of the only things pushing me. I just had to get to the Wall to warn my brothers of the madness of what I had seen. Only my supplies were lost, still attached to my horse’s saddle and in my mad flight I had no idea what direction I had gone and simply headed the opposite direction of the dead. I made it on to the ice fields but by that point I wasn’t even aware of the passing of days. After that you know the rest.”

“By the gods you are one lucky bastard,” said one of the female clan leaders, one of only two. “If a Walker had been with them you’d have been dead for sure.”

“A Walker?” Benjen asked. “A White Walker? But they haven’t been seen for centuries.”

“Neither have the walking dead,” said Mance. 

“We must warn the Night’s Watch!” Benjen said. Many of the leaders snorted. 

“We must get the Free Folk to safety,” Mance countered. “We all need to get to the other side of the Wall least we all become meat for the Night King’s army. That’s where you come in Stark, you’re going to help us.”

\-----Flashback Over-----

He’d hesitated at first before agreeing seeing reason. Mance had told him that there were a hundred thousand in the Free Folk army not to mention over a hundred mammoths and their giant riders. That also didn’t encompass those who couldn’t fight, a good amount of women and children or those too old to properly defend themselves in a battle a number that Mance assured him was well over double those who could. With that logic Benjen could do nothing but agree that to leave them on this side of the wall to become the dead and part of the Night King’s army would be to commit suicide. The night’s watch was down to three castles with a little over a hundred men at Castle Black and half that at both East Watch and the Shadow Tower. Benjen was to help convince Commander Mormont to allow the Free Folk past the wall to settle in the gift. It wouldn’t be an easy decision but the alternative couldn’t be considered. Mance had already told him if they were refused then they would attempt to cross by force something Benjen was sure would be possible given just how few there were to defend the Wall, and had decided that if the worst did come to pass then he would direct Mance to the abandoned castles of Greyguard and Deep Lake, if only to minimize the casualties on both sides and also agreed to appeal to his brother about having the Free Folk settle in the North. Benjen let out a sigh his breath misting and curling upwards like smoke. They would be packing up and beginning their march south in two days. Mance and the other clan leaders had agreed that it was likely that those who were coming had already arrived and any clans left were either already amongst the dead or soon to be. He never thought there would be a day where he looked forward to seeing the Wall but he could now officially say he wished he was already there safely beyond it in his bed with the fire stoked high. 

\--------------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------

When the raven had come from Winterfell requesting Benjen’s attendance to the wedding of Sansa Stark, to an unnamed groom the Lord Commander Mormont hadn’t had the heart to write of Benjen’s likely death. There was still hope after all as miniscule as it might be. Benjen’s horse had arrived only a few days before the raven exhausted and frothing at the mouth, with bleeding cuts and wounds most likely received by crashing through the bush of the Whispering Wood. All of the ranger’s supplies and even his quiver, sans arrows were still upon the horse. What had scared it so badly that it had run full stop all the way back to the wall Mormont had no idea. Given that neither Othor nor Jafar had returned he found it likely that they had run afoul Wildlings, there was the possibility that they were alive and merely prisoners but it had still been an unlikely prospect. Now the possibility was so small the Lord Commander had taken it upon himself to write out the notice for Lord Stark, of his brother’s death, even without a body.

When Benjen’s horse had come to the wall almost two weeks ago now, Joer had quickly organized for three groups of four rangers each to go out and see if they could figure out what happened. Only two of those groups had returned alive, both of them upon the same day, abet a few hours apart, the last only arriving a few hours ago. 

The first group had brought back four bodies, all of one of the ranging group that had gone out. They had found them in a clearing in the Whispering Wood where they had clearly set up camp before being ambushed. There wounds were strange, all done by teeth, though not of any animal Joer or the other men had seen before. He would almost say the bite marks seemed to be human but the Thenns and the other clans of cannibals lived much farther north along the ice rivers than where they had all been found. The second group had brought back a single body along with a leg containing a boot that belonged to none other than Othor of House Cerwyn, the stitching of his houses sigil a battle axe on the leather a dead giveaway. The body was of none other than Jafar who didn’t seem to have any wound on him except that of a broken neck. The group had found nothing that even indicated there had been a battle in the area of their finds despite exactly what they had found, nor had there been any indication as to where Benjen could be. They had however admitted that their find had been accidental as both had been covered by fresh fallen snow and only found when one of the men went to take a piss. It was likely that Benjen’s body was somewhere beneath the new snow and wouldn’t be found for a long time. 

Jafar’s body would be burned and they would be buried just beyond the wall with the rest of the Night’s Watch brothers who had no family including three of the other dead rangers, while Othor’s remains would be burned as well and the remaining bones sent to his family for burial as would the one of the other rangers an older man from the House of Darry who had served at the wall long before Joer had even taken the Black let alone become Lord Commander. It would be done in the morning, for now they were laid in one of the empty rooms. Maester Aemon had some of the stewards helping him try and figure out the wound pattern so they could understand what kind of threat their rangers might face when they left the wall. 

Lord Commander Mormont capped his ink as he let his letter dry, before rolling it and using one of the candles to seal the black ribbon he tied with wax. He pushed the blank shield into the wax, although technically in itself a symbol, the Night’s Watch had no heraldry to show its independence of the politics of the Kingdoms that lay south of the Wall. He called for a steward to take the letter to Maester Aemon to send with a raven to Winterfell, before blowing out his candle and heading to find himself some dinner. 

\----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break-------------------------------------------------

Jon stood in front of the hearttree nervous though it didn’t show except through the slightly hyssop scent he was giving off. Thankfully not enough of the Northern Lords or their heir’s new him well enough to associate that scent with his nervousness and his relatively blank face gave nothing away. He wore the cloak Lord Stark had given him, and it would stay there until he put it upon Sansa. He shifted his weight slightly to his other foot as he waited. While they didn’t expect much in the way of wedding gifts or coronation gifts given that almost none of the Northern Lords had known the truth of the gathering beforehand, he’d had it on good authority that many of them had commissioned speed orders on various items throughout Wintertown, which really should be called Wintercity with its already hundred thousand strong population. 

He was also surprised at just how all out Lady Catelyn had gone in the wedding preparations. Brandon and Jorjen’s wedding had been very beautiful but the décor Jon saw now far surpassed theirs. Braided silk in black, white and red were wrapped around various trees, while each chair was beautifully carved with a mixture of howling wolves and fire-breathing dragons, their cushions also wrapped in silk, some black, others white. Jon himself was dressed in those three colors and he had no doubt that Sansa too would be, though he expected a bit of Stark grey to be thrown in. 

The color of his tunic was a very white; as crisp and clean as fresh fallen snow. His half unlaced red doublet leather vest seemed almost like a blood splatter in comparison contrasting vibrantly, much like his violet eyes that betrayed his heritage even as they once were thought to be hidden behind Dayne heritage. The vest had tiny embroidered black dragons along the collar and seams and is breeches were the same black as the cloak he wore, and the same as the curls on his head. 

Suddenly everyone quieted, and behind him Jon could hear ser Dayne intake a sharp breath. He looked down the aisle that Lady Catelyn had arranged so that thousands of winter rose petals bred specifically to be an icy white rather than blue were laid upon a carpet of red silk. His breath caught as he saw Sansa. She was wearing a full length all white dress, that laid upon her perfectly clinging to the curves he knew she had but had never truly taken notice of before, a train made of silk and lace fell from her hair extending behind her and almost to the floor where Rickon stood walking behind her holding up the end so it never touched the ground or caught upon anything as Lord Stark escorted Sansa to the hearttree, to Jon. Though she wore no other color her fiery hair was as vibrantly red as the three headed dragon upon the cloak at his back. It was pinned in a half up half down style mix with braids and tiny white winter roses and diamond pins, even more crisply white against the red. She was absolutely beautiful and as Eddard stuck her hand in his he was speechless. Rickon moved and sat down in one on the empty seats, right beside Lady Catelyn. Sansa’s scent was light and citrusy, like the smell of oranges, it was a beautiful as she was.

“You are beautiful,” He managed to whisper before Lord Stark began to speak.

“Who stands behind this man?” Lord Stark asked. 

“I ser Arthur Dayne, Sword of the Morning and Kingsguard to the Prince Jon Targaryen stand behind this man,” ser Arthur said. Before continuing, “Who gives this woman?”

“I Lord Stark of the House Stark give this woman,” Eddard said, “Who takes this woman?”

“I Jon Targaryen, Prince of the Seven Kingdoms and of Westeros take this woman,” Jon answered his mouth slightly dry as his gaze never left Sansa’s own. 

“Do you take this man?” Eddard asked his daughter. 

“I Lady Sansa Stark take this man,” Sansa answered.

“Then I bid you join hands,” ser Arthur and Lord Stark said together and as one Sansa and Jon knelt together in front of the heart tree joining their hands together. Ser Arthur moved first holding a black ribbon edged in red and tied it around the two wrists as they bowed their heads before stepping back as Lord Stark did the same with a silvery grey ribbon edged in white. The silently said the traditional prayers before standing and unwrapping the ribbons from their wrists. Jon taking the Stark colored ribbon and Sansa the Targaryen ribbon as tradition dictated and wrapping them around their singular wrists with a small knot so they stayed, before Jon removed his cloak and with Lord Stark holding Sansa’s veil high brought it around her underneath the veil so it rested comfortably as he clipped it, completing the marriage ceremony. Everything was not finished however and Maester Luwin stepped forward, a red silk pillow in his hands. Atop the pillow sat two crowns, both a dark silvery metal that seemed almost black with brilliant red ruby’s glinting from their places in the sunlight. It was an excellent play on the Targaryen colors and Jon applauded Lady Catelyn’s skills in design. Lord Howland Reed stood beside Maester Luwin and took the pillow holding it for the Maester as he spoke. 

“Prince Jon Targaryen of the House Targaryen I bid you kneel,” Maester Luwin said. Jon knelt as Sansa stepped to the side as did ser Arthur, while his uncle Lord Stark found himself a seat beside his Lady wife and Alpha daughter.

“Will you solemnly promise and swear to rule and govern the Peoples of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, and any other territories to be acquired during your rule, according to the laws and customs the Crown has set for the people?” Luwin asked.

“I solemnly promise I will,” Jon answered, as he felt a strange buzzing in his hands. 

“Will you to your power cause Law and Justice, in Mercy, to be executed in all your judgments?” Luwin asked.

“I will,” answered Jon as the buzzing moved up his arms.   
“Will you to the utmost of your power maintain the Laws of the gods, the old and the new?” asked Luwin.  
“I will,” answered Jon, it was in his chest and face now slowly moving down his legs.   
“Will you do your utmost to defend the lands, territories and people of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros and any other territories to be acquired during your rule?” asked Luwin.   
“I will,” answered Jon. “The things of which I have here before promised, I will perform, and keep. I shall keep my oaths, or be struck down by the gods, this I so swear.” At these last words he felt something click within him and for a moment he saw a blazing fire three eggs and two heads of silver hair before he heard a crack and he was back in the godswood in front of the heart tree.  
“Then in the Light of the Seven, by the power of the gods old and the new, I hereby declare Jon of the House Targaryen to be the King of the Andels, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Arise King Jon,” Luwin said, as he took the more masculine of the two crowns from the pillow and set it upon Jon’s head. Jon rose stepping forward to take the other crown. 

“Lady Wife,” Jon said, “I bid of you to kneel.” Sansa stepped forward and knelt even as Maester Luwin and Lord Howland found their seats. The crowning of his new wife was much simpler than his own. 

“Lady Sansa of the Houses Stark do you so swear to help me uphold the oaths in which I have taken of the crown?” Jon asked. 

“I do so swear,” Sansa answered. Jon set the crown gently upon her head ensuring it sat snugly despite the pins and veil in her hair. 

“Then arise as Queen Sansa of the Houses Stark and Targaryen,” Jon said and Sansa rose. Gently Jon lifted her into a bridal style hold as was the Northern tradition so that he could carry her to the feast. Rickon hurried to hold Sansa’s veil, which Jon suspected would be removed before the end of the feast. Sansa giggled in his arms as he bounced her up for a better hold, the smile on his face was unlikely to leave for the entirety of the night.


	21. Of Ice And Fire

It took only moments for Rakharo and Jorah to calm Daenerys down, though considering the moment Rakharo had his arms around her she became limp with exhaustion as she came out of shock, it wasn’t surprising. 

“Put her on the bed,” Jaehaerys ordered tiredly. He couldn’t bring back his nephew. If he was already dead then he was gone, there was the possibility that he may be able to heal Drogo and also ensure that Daenerys could have children once more. While Jorah and Rakharo arranged Dany onto the bed Jaehaerys went around it and gently set his long fingered hand on the Great Khal’s cheek sending out his power in tendrils to find what the problem was. The information his power reported back was nothing short of horrifying. Not only was what he believed to be the original wound and cause of the Khal’s woes, just above his pectoral festering but there was also a parasitic curse feeding not just from his life force but also from his soul. Immediately Jaehaerys cut the curse off from its food source being careful to ensure it didn’t latch on to him and instead redirected it towards its caster, whom he assumed was the witch woman, before trying to assess the damage. It was too late for the Khal however. His soul was far too damaged to sustain his life force just as his life force was far too week to sustain his damaged soul. The part of him that was Harry Potter likened the man to a victim of the dementor’s kiss; alive but only in definition. He didn’t notice that the more exhausted he became the more the lines between who he was and his dreams of who he once was seemed to blur. Instead he focused on the Khal before him as he withdrew all of his power, death would be the only merciful thing he could grant the Khal now, but Daenerys should be the one to decide. 

Jaehaerys looked towards his sister, curled up and weeping gently on the other side of the bed. Rakharo and Jorah were still within the tent, standing in silent guard and when Jaehaerys looked up to them he nodded a negative to their unasked question. Drogo’s condition was beyond him now. He crossed around to the other side of the bed and once more sat gently upon the edge. 

“Dany,” Jaehaerys said softly. “I need you to lie on your back. Please? I might be able to fix some of what the witch did if you let me. Please let me,” he whispered. For a moment she didn’t respond and Jaehaerys’s stomach almost dropped, then she shifted uncurling and turning onto her back. Jaehaerys breathed a sigh of relief and clambered more fully onto the bed so he was kneeling beside her. Both of his hands went to her belly and he closed his eyes as he sent his power within searching for what was wrong. The damage done by the birthing itself was simple to fix and the most noticeable to him, but he could tell that there was something still off. Finally he found it. She had been cursed and the magic held the same inky signature that the magic on Drogo had held. This curse was much more hidden than the one on Drogo had been but the reasoning behind that was obvious. The caster knew that Drogo would likely be too far gone by the time anyone realized he had been cursed so the curse didn’t need to be hidden, but if Jaehaerys hadn’t had his experiences and memories of Harry slowly bleeding through a little more each night in his dreams then he likely would have missed the curse upon his sister without looking so deeply. 

“Dany I found the curse, I’ve seen it before, not in this life but as Harry,” Jaehaerys whispered and it was true. Narcissa Malfoy had been cursed shortly after Draco’s birth and no one had ever found the curse to break it as no one actually knew what curse had been used or could find its origin point within her that’s how well hidden it was. When Harry had first become a healer after leaving the auror corps she had approached him concerning the life debt he owed her. She wanted him to search for a cure for her infertility. She’d worded it so that he wouldn’t be ill if he was for whatever reason unable to complete the task, breaking the curse on her was the task he set as his apprenticeship project. It took him the entirety of his two years training to figure out how to lift the curse and in the end it had come down him having the sheer power to overwhelm the curse after he’d found it. He was nervous though. As Harry it had taken almost all of his power to burn out the curse out Lady Malfoy without killing her. 

“I,” Jaehaerys paused, “I’m not sure if I can fix it,” Jaehaerys continued. “If I try, I can’t stop, or the curse will kill you and probably me too. I’m willing to try but I’ll leave the choice up to you. Don’t take too long to decide though; the longer you take the stronger the curse grows since its feeds from you and the harder it will be for me to remove it later,” Jaehaerys said already feeling the first fingers of tiredness catching up to him. He’d forced himself and those with him to ride with little more than a few hours of sleep here and there to come stop something that had begun before he’d even Seen it. That coupled with the stresses that he had experienced second hand through what he had seen and then doing his damnedest to try and find cures or fixes for what he could had pulled him down even further. 

“Do it,” Dany said with little hesitation. Jaehaerys didn’t even stop to think that perhaps he ought to get a few more hours of sleep before he began so that he was a his peek he just pushed himself further on. The barrier that had been slowly thinning over the years grew ever thinner the more he pulled at the energy and power within himself in order to heal. Energy that for years had been keeping up the barrier that held his current psyche and his past psyche apart, a barrier that had been allowing only the slowest of integration through his dreams. 

Jaehaerys could feel as the power he was using began to burn underneath his skin. How hot it felt despite his immunity to the heat of flames. He felt as he seemingly began to run dry and his inner self began grasping for something anything, as long as it meant he didn’t have to stop, didn’t have to admit failure. His mind grasped the barrier and the world lit up. 

\-----------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------

When Jorah had heard the Khalessi screaming about how a woman had killed her child he didn’t hesitate to rush into the tent seconds after Rakharo. The young man had been filling him in a little on what had happened especially as Jaehaerys had refused to voice what he had Seen that had lit the fire in him to push their entire small group to what was almost their breaking point. Several times during their ride Jorah had the overwhelming urge that if he wasn’t sure Jaehaerys would never forgive him he would have given into, to dose the boy with some of the precious milk of the poppy he carried with him in the case of emergencies. 

It was hard to see Jaehaerys’s twin, a girl who’d grown into a woman just as beautiful as her brother, seem to be little more than a mad woman. He helped Rakharo calm her down and used some of the aforementioned milk of the poppy, to keep her from being so roused again for the time being. His heart sank even further when Jaehaerys checked the Khal and shook his head silently. While Jorah didn’t like some of the Dothraki’s practices, ironically the first being slavery, he had respected the man. Then when he spoke of the curse that restricted the Khalessi from being able to bare children his heart had dropped even further. There was a chance, a big one if he understood Jaehaerys’s tone that they wouldn’t survive this. He did have some confusion however, he’d heard whispers between them before but he’d though Harry was little more than a nickname or a pseudonym but the way the name was said it was as if he was a whole other person, he didn’t have much time to think it over though because Daenerys had given him permission to try and fix her. 

Jaehaerys had shifted more fully onto the bed and his hands began to glow with power. Rakharo and Jorah watched on as power streamed into Daenerys. The tent began to get warmer and warmer until it was practically stifling, at that moment, they could both feel the heat and power suddenly falter for a moment and felt something sick in the pit of their stomachs. Suddenly as if a wall that had been blocking the power’s route had been pushed over, it flowed forward unrestricted. Both men could do little more than shield their eyes as the tent lit up and heat exploded. Suddenly the bed that held the two Targaryen’s was on fire. With no small amount of effort Rakharo and Jorah got themselves out of the tent.   
A huge whoosh sounded and Jorah felt the wind knocked out of him as a burst of hot air from behind him pushed him and Rakharo beside him into the ground. He smacked his forehead against a rock having been unable to get his hands in front of him in time. Distantly he heard the sound of screaming, for a moment he thought it was himself. Beside him Rakharo rose to his knee unsteadily throwing Jorah’s arm over his neck half dragging him further away from the raging inferno of heat behind him. Jorah raised his head and saw the witch, still chained to her post screaming in pain her skin cracking as light poured out from within. So he hadn’t been the one screaming after all. The witch seemed to be burning alive from within and if he hadn’t been more worried about the two Targaryen’s they’d just left behind in the tent he’d have wanted to look a little closer to understand the strange phenomenon. Once he was standing on his own two feet under his own power once more it was all he could do but watch the bonfire that burned where the Khal and Khalessi’s tent once sat, and try not to liken it to a funeral pyre for the two Targaryen’s within. He could only hope that their resistance to fire proved stronger than the flames they were currently within.


	22. Chapter 21: A Look At The Future, A Reflection Of The Past, A Picture Of The Present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright Fuckers, so I managed to write this entire chapter out today. Though I had it mapped out it was still 7000 words fueled entirely by espresso before I crash so ya'll best tell me what you think. Anyways enjoy, Imma go pass out now that the caffeine induced wakefulness is about to wear off.

Jaehaerys screamed as the power a mixture of suppressed memory he’d held behind a barrier of his own power, that he hadn’t even known existed, burst free and coalesced into flames that burst around him and his sister, fuelled by his very being. His vision blurred and went dark before suddenly exploding into vibrant colors that blurred as he seemed to speed forward to an unknown destination. Unexpectedly he stopped and everything became clear for a moment. 

He looked around. He was on the balcony of a beautiful keep set upon a large hill overlooking a bustling city. He could hear the sounds of merchants, hawkers and talk even where he stood, seemingly out of place, in his Dothraki style clothing with the extortionate silks that served as whimsical curtains behind him. He breathed out deeply despite wanting to hold his breath at the stench that filled his nose and noticed his breath mist up despite not having done so only a moment ago. Down below movement stopped and everything went silent as frost crept through the streets. Jaehaerys could do little more than breathe as ice swept over the entirety of the city below him. He felt a hand touch his shoulder and turned his head to see his sister beside him. 

“Is this what you see in your dreams every night?” she asked. 

“No, I’ve never had this one,” Jaehaerys said. “I’ve felt the cold, and I fear it but I’ve never seen more than blue eyes, something is wrong.” Daenerys grasped his hand as they looked down at the frozen city, and Jaehaerys looked eyes with the inhuman being that stood there watching. Blue eyes met purple and Jaehaerys gasped as he was thrown forward once more, colors blurring around him. He looked to the side trying to find his sister but she was not there. Had she ever been, or had she just been something more he’d Seen? Everything stopped again but now he was in a place he recognized from dreams he’d had before.

It was a godswood, but not just any; it was the godswood he had dreamed of many times with the large grey wolf, with its blue eyes and slight red highlights in its fur. This time thought the godswood was not empty of people as it had been everytime he’d seen it before. They did not see him where he stood slightly to the side of the hearttree. In front of the tree stood a man a good foot taller than either he or Dany stood. He had black curls that reminded Jaehaerys much of what he had once looked as Harry, and he wore a crisp white tunic. Jaehaerys sniffed, he could smell Alpha and hyssop; a plant Jaehaerys knew much of, given how often he’d prescribed a tea of its leaves to relieve coughs and sore throats. Jaehaerys softly smiled. This dream vision was much better than the last. This was a wedding. Jaehaerys moved so he stood directly in front of the hearttree so he could watch with a better view. 

Upon seeing the young Alpha’s face Jaehaerys gasped. Violet eyes so similar to his own and that of his twins peered from a familiar yet strange face. Jaehaerys saw his and his twins, cheekbones, and Viserys’s brow line. The broadness of the Alpha’s face wasn’t like that of any of his family members but with so many of the features being so familiar Jaehaerys knew only one thing; whoever this young Alpha was, he was family. Everything blurred again as Jaehaerys seemed to be thrown forwards towards something once again. 

When he stopped this time he was in a very dimly lit common room. Men were talking and eating all around. They were all dressed in the same general style of furs and black dyed clothing. One table was set apart and higher than the others, and several man seemed to be eating there. The one in the rightmost chair had white hair and an equally white beard. His clothing seemed to be better made than many of the others who sat eating in the hall, and his sharp eyes seemed to watch them all. Beside him on his left sat a cleanly shaven man who seemed only a little younger with dark grey hair and harsh eyes set above what seemed to be a firmly entrenched scowl. Another seat to the left sat the oldest looking one among them his hair thinning and snow white. Yet again even in his age he had a distinctive cheekbones and brow that once more Jaehaerys recognized as familial. He didn’t know if this was a vision of the future, the past, or perhaps even the present. But it didn’t matter to those around him he wasn’t here and therefore couldn’t ask. There were shouts but he couldn’t turn to see who was doing the shouting or what the man, Jafar, whom they all seemed to be shouting about was doing, as the world was already blurring together once more.

Scenes passed letting him stop to see things for a few moments before throwing forward again. Some of the things he saw were strange and fantastical. He couldn’t tell if they were the future or not. Others were so abstract, wrought with symbolism that he couldn’t hope to understand them in the short moments he saw them and could only hope he remembered the details later so that he might figure out what they meant. Others seemed so innocuous he couldn’t understand why he was seeing them, and yet it continued on.

A man clad in black sitting beside what could only be a giant being taught a strange guttural language and teaching the giant the common in exchange. A three eyed crow that screeched about the tapestry changing even as its wings were pierced by tree roots and its third eye became blood red. A young golden lion being friendly playing with a slim dark grey wolf as they raced around a forest, howling and roaring. Sails marked with the sigils of a stag and burning crown catching fire as men screamed in pain and fear. A swift rider carrying a silvery shining sword wrapped up, a beautiful red haired woman seducing a dark haired swordsman. A lion hiding in the shadows as he watched a small wolf learn to howl, a black three headed dragon wrapping itself in the fogginess of perfumes and silks, and finally a small black mockingbird flitting around a pride of lions pulling out golden hairs from the Pride Male unnoticed by all but one of the smaller lions whose eyes never left him though he didn’t make a move, and the black three headed dragon who looked on lazily as though he was simply amused by the mockingbird’s antics. 

The next vision almost knocked Jaehaerys off his feet with its familiarity. He had regularly dreamed of this moment. It was one of the few memories of being Harry Potter that seemed to plague him with regularity. It was the moment that Jaehaerys as Harry Potter died, or in more accurate terms was murdered.

\-----------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break------------------------------------------------------

Harry swept a stray curl of his wild black hair away from his face; he really needed to get around to getting his hair cut. He snorted in his own mind, it was hard enough remembering to eat, shower and sleep once he got into something. His moment of inattention cost him and he had to drop down as the potion he’d been working on imploded in on itself before violently exploding. There goes that attempt. He was so close to a cure, or at least a potion that a werewolf only had to take once a year to maintain control during the moon. He lay on the floor breathing heavily for a moment before there was knocking at his door. 

“Healer Potter do you need assistance?” a woman’s voice asked through the door. 

“I am not injured Healer Malfoy,” Harry said standing up, careful not to touch the superheated glass shards that had once been a very expensive glass caldron. “If you wouldn’t mind alerting the Magical Cleansing Service Team that a Class Six potions accident has occurred and I require decontamination for both myself and the lab?” Harry asked. 

“Of course,” Healer Malfoy said though Harry could hear the hesitance in her voice and knew immediately why. 

“Astoria, I swear I’m fine,” Harry said. “I ducked before the cauldron exploded.”

“Alright Harry,” Astoria said. “I’ll be right back.”

It took little more than an hour for the Magical Cleansing Service Team to declare him fit for service after ensuring that no foreign magic from the accident clung to him or affected him in anyway. His lab rooms however would require a full magic cleansing that would likely take upwards of eight hours. As with all on the job magical accidents Harry was required to take a twenty-four rest period before returning to work. Harry had sighed when he heard that and decided that if he couldn’t work he’d at least catch up on a few errands he’d been meaning to run. Astoria had told him to go home and rest and he would, but he had a few things he needed to do first, starting with that haircut. 

Harry was whistling softly when he walked through his front door. He kicked off his protective dragon hide boots and removed his cloak setting it on the scaled coat hook beside the door. 

“Kreature,” Harry called as walked into the living area that was openly connected to the entry, past the ex-Lady Blacks portrait. He’d never been more happy when he’d found the spell she’d used to ensure she’d never be silenced in the Black Library. Now he was able to ensure that she stayed quiet, even if he still couldn’t remove her portrait, or the wall which she had been smart enough to spell as well. She hadn’t not shut up the entire time he’d redone Grimmauld Place, and finding that spell had been a literal lifesaver, gods the migraines alone would have killed him.   
Harry had changed the dark browns blacks, reds, and plums the house had once been colored in, along with the heavy antique furniture that had once found their home there. He had updated the entirety of the house, knocking out entire walls to create an open concept living area, and reflooring with driftwood colored hardwood and furnished it with light grey and gold furniture, which while looking antique weren’t as drab and heavy as the previous furniture was. He hadn’t sold any of the furniture rather stored it in the Black Vaults for future generations. The walls were painted a light slate blue color the lady at the mixing counter had called cloudberry while the accents had been done in a much darker shade of blue slate she’d called city scape. He’d done the painting and renovations with a mixture of magic and muggle techniques enjoying the work it provided him with when he was required by St. Mungos to take days off, which honestly happened quite often with his magical experimentation in order to create new healing spells, potions, ruins and any other kind of magic that he could apply healing too.  
He’d also refurbished the kitchen and the dining room, and was working to do the downstairs bathroom next before moving to tackle the upstairs next followed by the exterior of the house, as despite the fact that it was still invisible to the nonmagical eye, he still felt it necessary to ensure the lawn and yard were up kept. Perhaps it was a habit from his days with the Dursleys or perhaps it was just his pride requiring him to ensure his home was at its best that drove him. He didn’t know and he didn’t particularly care. 

“Kreature!” Harry tried calling again setting his bags on the table that was set against the wall. Kreature was getting on in years but still he always answered when called. Perhaps he was unable too?

“Nami?” Harry tried calling the young elf he’d only recently purchased to be trained under Kreature. Kreature had all but demanded it when it became apparent that the old elf was finding it more and more difficult complete day to day tasks that Harry needed done, or just the general care of Harry himself since the man didn’t seem to be inclined to take care of himself. When Nami didn’t immediately pop to Harry’s side Harry knew that something wasn’t right. He flicked his wrist causing his wand to fall out of its wrist harness into his hand and silently cast an alert spell that would raise an alarm directly in the office of Ernie Macmillan the current Head of the Auror department. The spell was directly attuned to a small device that would only light up and flash if Harry himself was the one to perform the spell, a measure that was put in place shortly after he quit the Aurors. Though the man had been plenty angry at Harry, for multiple reasons it was Ronald Weasely who had come up with the idea.

Even before having quit the Aurors, Harry had experienced a more than fair share of violent attacks, from enemies, fanatical fans, and creepy stalkers, but afterwards the number of attacks had risen and the number of fans had not necessarily dropped but they had become determined to convince Harry that it was his duty to be an Auror. The public had finally begun to come around after he’d left the country for his training, and after he’d returned his fans had become even more fanatical calling him a ‘miraculous’ hero. He supposed having freed Narcissa and a few other pureblooded women from curses that had rendered them completely infertile and developing a spell and potion combination that had begun, a still slow but much faster than what it had been before, mind healing for the Longbottom’s had earned him that title yet still he could do without yet another name let alone the name ‘miraculous’. Yet still even after things had calmed down some the measure was in place for a reason and something seemed to be very wrong. 

Harry hissed out a spell in Parseltongue as quietly as he could. There had been a mage in India who had taught him the many magics that remained exclusive to Parseltongue shortly after he’d finished his Healing Apprenticeship. He’d learned that very few Parseltongue spells were violent but the few that were, were powerful. No, parselspells, as they were called, were almost exclusively for healing, with a few smattered here and there that dealt with defense and even fewer that were strictly curses. As Vihaan, his Parseltongue tutor had once said, there was a reason that the medical caduceus had a snake. What Harry had used was a detect life spell. It fell under the category of healing spells generally being used on patients whose pulse was too week to detect manually, but as Harry and many Parseltongues before him had learned, if you think in more than just a simple linear fashion you can do many things with the most simplistic of spells. 

His magic pinged detecting two living beings in his vicinity, one was obviously him but the other, was not. Harry had never invited anyone over to Grimmauld, through the wards. He had a small cottage in Godric’s Hollow, built directly over where his parent’s home had once been. It was a front as he didn’t exactly live there but paranoia is only paranoia when they aren’t actually out to get you after all. It was where he held any gatherings or invited people over. Both of his elves worked together to maintain it, and alerted him whenever someone entered. He’d told everyone that he’d sold Grimmauld through the goblins and therefore didn’t know the identity of the new owners. Obviously someone had figured it out. 

He ran through a list of enemies in his mind. There was Augustus Rookwood. A Deatheater who had somehow evaded capture and Harry for the few years that Harry had served as an Auror, the only man to ever do so. Harry had hunted down each and every marked and unmarked Deatheater and Deatheater supporter based off of the memories Snape had left him. Before going off to die, he’d only watched the memories up until the point that he learned he’d have to die. Later after the battle he’d gone back to re-watch if only to see his mother again. Ever the spy, the cunning man had hidden within his own mind an updated list of the Dark Lord’s soldiers and supporters and their crimes. It had been one of the last memories and simply showed Snape writing everything down and then burning the parchment but Harry watched the memory over and over again copying down every name and crime he remembered each time before returning to the memory to get more. He’d passed the memories on to the Ministry, specifically Kingsley, knowing the man’s honor would ensure that the greatest spy for their side would be recognized. 

Kingsley hadn’t disappointed, less than two weeks after Harry had handed the memories over, barely two days after the Ministry was officially up and running though many divisions such as the Unspeakables and Aurors had been working off the clock for those two weeks, a single memory was published in the paper to be played for all to see; the memory of Dumbledore asking Snape to kill him, both to save Draco and to secure his position as the light sides spy. Dennis Creevey the youngest and only surviving Creevey brother had elected not to return to Hogwarts and instead had secured himself as a reporter slash photographer for the Daily Prophet, apparently a tribute to his brother. Dennis was the author of the article which had accompanied the memory. He had been brutally honest in telling readers that many disliked Severus Snape both for his seeming hatred and bullying of every house other than Slytherin, but he had also provided direct quotes and even a story specific to himself as to different times over the last year when the man had gotten them out of detention with Deatheaters who worked at the school and forced them to serve them instead with him. As Dennis had said at one point, ‘Though scrubbing a floor on ones hands and knees with no magic is undesirable, it is preferable in the face of the unimaginable pain of being held under the cruciatus curse.’ 

As a result Severus Snape posthumously received an Order of Merlin Second Class. Harry had brought the award to present it to Snape’s portrait himself. The man hadn’t said anything and instead had just looked at Harry with sad yet proud eyes. Harry couldn’t say one hundred percent that he wasn’t dreaming as he left the office the door almost closed behind him when he thought he heard Snape say,

“One point for Gryffindor Potter,” but he would choose to believe that he had heard it, if only because it made him happy. Regardless of Harry’s efficiency in capturing those who attempted to evade him it was unlikely that his mysterious intruder was Rookwood. The man had been smart enough to evade capture and it would be implausible to the man to decide suddenly to try for revenge not when it was probable that he would be giving up his freedom in doing so, so not Rookwood. Perhaps it was not an enemy at all but a rabid fan? Harry disregarded that idea quickly. A rabid fan would be both unlikely to find let alone manage to get through the wards at Grimmauld Place or to somehow restrict both of his house elves in coming to his side when called. Wordlessly Harry disillusioned himself and silenced his feet. Socks on hardwood floor were already fairly quiet but he was taking no chances, as he moved slowly to minimize the distortion of the disillusion charm. 

Harry stepped forward feeling a sudden wetness on his socked foot causing him to look down. It took everything in him not to curse angrily at the sight. On the floor with her throat cut was Nami and he’d just stepped in a puddle of her blood. Harry knew now for sure he wasn’t dealing with someone who would be friendly. He lifted his foot slightly and moved to cast a cleaning spell on it so that bloody foot prints wouldn’t give him away. As he moved away from the body he spotted Kreature’s only a few feet away, half hidden by the settee he’d placed by the bookshelves, Harry continued thinking. If he could figure out who it was that was in his house and had done this he would be able to better anticipate their actions. The Aurors would likely be here in a maximum of ten minutes but that was still ten minutes that whomever was in his house would have to try and do whatever he came here to do. 

He went back to the list in his head. Very few people had actually made it onto his enemy list, most being simple annoyances as they were unlikely to blatantly attack him even if they had the opportunity, to do so, given his public position in the magical world. It had annoyed Hermione that he hadn’t used his image and perceived political power to force change in the Ministry. Harry was happy to let the politics be handled by others. He never was the most politically adept after all and had been prone to being easily led, after all Dumbledore had managed to led him all the way to his own death. Instead Harry had assigned his seats in the Wizmagot to several proxies one for each Lordship he held. He met with them each publicly once every six months and corresponded with each via letter. 

For the Black’s proxy who would hold three seats in the Wizmagot he’d assigned Andromeda Tonks with the condition that she taught Teddy Lupin their basics so that he could sit in the Black Heir seat upon his fifteenth birthday and take over as the Black Lord upon his seventeenth. In his will he’d even written over the proxy of the Lordship to her until Teddy could take over the Lordship with the conditions that should both Harry and Andromeda die for whatever reason, before Teddy could take up the Lordship that the seats would sit empty so that no one got the idea to kill them both in order to take the seats for themselves. It wasn’t likely considering the Malfoy’s were next in line for the seats if for whatever reason Teddy was unable to take them up herself and both Narcissa and Draco were unlikely to attempt to sully the Malfoy name further, especially as Kingsley was not one to be bribed like other Minsters had been. 

He’d given the Potter Proxy with its two seats to Amos Diggory, upon the condition of an oath that forced him to vote as Harry wished rather than in his own personal interests. Thankfully Amos was already mostly in line with Harry’s interests and was very much willing to take the oath. In the meantime Harry had assigned Amos and his wife’s newly born son as his heir as he felt it unlikely that he would have a child of his own. He’d even done the same ritual Sirius had done with him when he was first born, though he was not young James’s godfather. In the event of his death, young James Diggory would become the new Lord Potter though his parents would hold the proxy until he was old enough to hold it on his own. No one knew of the ritual but many knew of Harry assigning James as his heir of House Potter which had no blood inheriting members other than Harry himself, and hadn’t that just rattled a few people, particularly a trio of Weasley’s.

Molly had been angry enough when Harry and Ginny hadn’t gotten back together, but the two had parted amicably and Ginny was now married with two young children to the now bordering on famous journalist Mr. Dennis Creevey. He and Ginny were still good friends and Dennis and Ginny had offered him a standing invitation for dinner every Friday though he only made it there once or twice a month. He was also the godfather to their beautiful baby girl while Luna had been made the godmother to their beautiful baby boy, named Lillian and Colin respectively.  
He had left the Gryffindor title to them both in the event of his death though he gave them free reign of the proxy now. The title was mostly ceremonial and for the most part minor in terms of actual power as it didn’t have a single Wizmagot seat. It however guaranteed a position on the Hogwarts Board of Governors which Harry had specifically assigned Ginny as proxy knowing that the stuffy Lords that sat on it now would have their hands full trying to handle her. In fact she’d become one half of the powerhouse on the Board, the other being Draco Malfoy surprisingly enough. The two had worked together to institute a sort of elementary day class program for muggleborns, that spanned the entire summer before their first year in order to ensure they were not simply thrown into the deep water on their first day of Hogwarts. They had also managed to get rid of Binns and update the class list of the school so it held classes like Mathematics, and English that while muggle were deemed necessary for the success of witches and wizards in general society, as well as more magical subjects such as Warding and Healing, which beforehand one could only study through an apprenticeship. 

Ginny however had become estranged from the youngest of her brothers Ronald as well as his wife Hermione and both her parents; Molly and Arthur, who had both been rather disappointed in her and Harry for not marrying one another despite the fact that she was very much in love with Dennis Creevey. Though Arthur himself had never said so, he simply followed Molly’s example without a word and as such Ginny gave him the same treatment as her mother. 

So despite the fact that Harry had all but given the Gryffindor title to Ginny and Dennis already, the aforementioned Weasely’s were not pleased. In fact it had been part of the reason Harry had quit the Aurors in the first place. He had always intended to quit after catching the last of the Deatheaters, though at the time he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with the rest of his life, but he knew it was not fighting, and despite Rookwood being free he’d quit anyway unable to stand being Ronald Weasely’s partner when the man who had once been like a brother continued to berate and try and guilt him for not marrying Ginny straight out of school despite the fact that she was already with Dennis. His annoyance grew to the point that it was almost difficult to not curse his partner, not a good thing in the Auror division when one must rely on their partner to watch their back. Either way Harry had left without looking back. 

His amicable parting with Ginny hadn’t meant he’d been alone, though his relationships with lovers never seemed to last long. He was also very meticulous in ensuring no children would be begot from his loins when he slept with women, using parselspells that could only be countered with other parselspells, though out of the six lovers he’d had only two had been women and that was including Ginny, as he swung both ways.

As he continued creeping quietly through his own house wondering just how much longer he had to wait for the aurors he seemed to be at a loss as to who it might be in his home. The list of most likely included several people but he couldn’t pinpoint one over the other as there were reasons for all of them to be unlikely to have done something like this. 

The first that he’d already thought of and dismissed was Rookwood, still it was a possibility. If for whatever reason it was him Harry would be better off not engaging directly and instead staying hidden casting traps and buying time until the aurors finally arrived. Another possibility was Hermione. Harry found that even more unlikely than Rookwood as although the witch had been just as disappointed as Ron that he hadn’t married Ginny and had been frustrated with him for not personally taking responsibility for his Wizmagot seats and wielding his political power for what she believed to be the way the wizarding world should go, she was far too logical for something like this. Although Harry had heard word recently that she had been sanctioned for speaking out of turn in the Wizmagot. She didn’t hold her own seat and instead had to follow a very specific set of rules in order to bring forth and propose laws as a commoner. Hermione while always one for following the rules certainly had difficulties holding her tongue when she felt wronged. If it was her the best option was engage directly full force. The witch for all of her intelligence had little creativity when it came to dueling, only using dueling specific spells and never thinking outside the box of rules she had created for herself on the idea of what each spell was specific for.

That left the final and in some ways most dangerous option; her husband Ronald Weasely. While not the most adept in terms of power, he was the most likely of the three of being able to get through the wards that surrounded Grimmauld having studied under his curse and ward breaking brother for half a year before Harry and Ron together had joined the aurors once the Ministry was properly functional again. He was also the most prone to the three to make rash decisions, making him the most unpredictable. Although the fact that he had managed to get into Grimmauld and kill both of his house elves without either managing to raise an alarm was impressive and spoke of prior planning. Then again Ronald Weasely despite all of his flaws had been the Gryffindor chessmaster for a reason; the youngest Weasely boy could be frighteningly strategic at times, even with little time to prepare. Though Harry was sure he knew a lot of Weasely’s fighting style having been his partner for a few years there was also a large gap of time in between then and now so Harry couldn’t assume anything lest he make a fatal mistake that is, if it was Ronald Weasely. 

There was however a good way to determine if his intruder was in fact Ronald. Simply wait. Ronald had never been patient despite his chess abilities and if Harry simply waited him out Ron would likely reveal himself due to impatience, not to mention the Aurors would be all the more likely to arrive before anything too dastardly happened. Harry continued moving slowly to a corner of the living area, where he’d placed a bear skin area rug and several comfy looking chairs. 

His stepping onto the rug was his mistake. Apparently his intruder had been standing under their own disillusionment charm but hadn’t had the best view of the front entrance and door so had been watching and waiting till they could see something, anything. When Harry had stepped in Nami’s blood his feet had been behind a couch and therefore it hadn’t given him away but even under the disillusionment charm he was still solid and stepping onto the rug had caused an indent letting the intruder know exactly where Harry stood. 

Harry cursed out as he ducked the speeding dark purple spell he recognized as the entrails expelling curse, and let the disillusion spell drop it was no use now. 

“Serpensortia,” Harry cast summoning three snakes. “Dissssstract my attacker, sssstay away from the flying lightssss,” Harry hissed to the snakes before diving as another spell raced towards him, this one a mustard yellow color. It struck the wall behind where Harry’s head had been and caused the paint to sizzle and bubble as it superheated. He heard another spell a cutting curse and heard the dying screeches of snakes.

“You can’t keep ducking forever Potter,” Ron Weasely said, a mistake on his part as it told Harry exactly where Ron stood disillusioned in the doorway between the kitchen and living area half behind the wall, leaning out just enough to aim his wand, though his hand was shaking slightly and the distortion of the disillusionment was giving him away. 

“Depulso,” Harry cast forcing Ronald to duck out of the doorway. Harry’s spell hit the doorframe causing wood to splinter and fly. Harry hissed and the splinters were transfigured into wooden Occamy serpents that flew at Ronald who was no longer under a disillusionment charm. A swish of Ronald’s wand and the wood burned, and the ash flung itself at Harry’s eyes. 

“Scurgify,” Harry said quickly trying to clean the ashy smokescreen from the air while shifting to the left even though he couldn’t see hoping to avoid any other spells Ronald threw his way. But Ronald wasn’t an Auror on the fact he’d been Harry’s friend alone. Harry took a piercer to his right shoulder not having moved fast enough when the ash clouded the air. Harry threw up a shield as he fell, but Ronald sent an overpowered stunner to shatter it before it was even fully up, following it up with another piercer, this time directly to his wand hand causing him to drop his wand. 

“Fucking hell,” Harry hissed rolling on his side trying to reach for his wand with his other hand. Ronald kicked it away as he sneered down at Harry. 

“Perfect Potter brought down by the so called second best,” Ronald said, flicking his wand and silently casting a cutting curse that cut shallowly across Harry’s chest. 

“Why?” Harry asked, “Why now?”

“Because Potter, everything just keeps adding up and you just keep moving on like nothing’s wrong,” Ronald said, Harry could see anger and madness in his eyes. This man in front of him was not the friend he once knew; he hadn’t been that man since the war ended but the man he was looking at right now wasn’t even the slightest bit familiar. “They fired me today, because of ‘Miones sanctions in the Wizmagot. Apparently the public image of my wife breaking the traditional laws of public speaking out of turn in the sanctity that is the Wizmagot is too much to bear for the Auror Division. If you had just done what you were supposed to, stayed my partner in the force and married Ginny they wouldn’t have been able to do this, and if you weren’t willing to sit in your seats yourself you should have given them to ‘Mione. You ruined everything,” Ron continued his voice holding a note of crazed anger. 

“You’re mad Ronald. I am a person and have the right to make my own choices. Nobody gets the right to decide for another person, not you not Hermione, you are not god and you have no right to decide, why would you think that you would?” Harry asked trying to stall for more time. Ronald suddenly grinned and pulled something out of his pocket as he stepped forward and down onto Harry’s bleeding hand. 

“They aren’t coming you know?” Ronald said showing Harry what he’d pulled from his pocket, a small phoenix figurine about the size of his palm, flashing brightly. Of course, Ron knew about the alert, he’d come up with the original idea himself. The red head smirked down when Harry’s eyes widened in recognition. “They’ll notice it missing eventually, but not before you’re already dead. It’s how I figured out you were here. You told everyone you sold the place but this, it’s primary purpose is an emergency portkey to your location in the events of an emergency. A little magical manipulation and it allowed me to track you. You left from here this morning, not from Godric’s Hollow as I expected. After that it wasn;t all that hard,” Ronald chuckled almost madly and then kicked out at Harry’s ribs causing Harry to groan. “It won’t be hard you know. We may not be close friends anymore in public but we didn’t display our animosity towards one another where others could see. A few tears here, a speech there, and everyone will remember how close the Golden Trio once was and Hermione will get the power she needs in the Wizmagot, and I’ll have my job back. Between Diggory and Hermione it’s no contest, they’ll vote the way we need them too, and Hermione will get the seats,” Ron said madly. It was in that moment Harry knew that he wasn’t getting out of this alive, Ronald was to mad to be reasoned with something inside the man’s mind had snapped. 

“You won’t get what you want,” Harry said though he was in pain and it clouded his voice. “You might have gotten the drop on me. I never thought it would be you to end me but I knew it would be someone, eventually. I may never have had my own child but I never had too. Did you ever wonder exactly how Sirius had made me Lord Black when Draco had the better claim?” Harry asked chuckling before gasping in pain when Ron cursed him again. His blood slowly began to heat, a blood-boiler. 

“It’s an old ritual, not often performed and all but forgotten, and there’s nothing you can do to circumvent it,” Harry said smug that no matter what his murderer wouldn’t get what he wanted. 

“No! No! No! This isn’t what’s supposed to happen! Why do you always have to ruin it? Why can’t you ever just do what you’re supposed too?” Ronald ranted madly. A flash of green caught Harry’s eye. One of the snakes from the previous Serpensortia had survived Ronald’s cutting curses, and was slowly slithering closer to Ronald. The red head didn’t seem to notice the boomslang slithering closer and in the guise of hissing in pain when Ronald kicked at him again, Harry used a parselspell and sent as much of his magic into the snake as he could. The spell he used was supposed to be a healing spell. When used on patients, whether human or creature it was supposed to speed up healing by accelerating and amplifying bodily process. Used on the snake as it was it would not only heal the injury it had suffered due to Ronald’s earlier cutting curse but with the amount of magic Harry had used would also magnify the deadly venom it carried. 

“You can’t live,” Ronald said finally breaking out of his previous tirade. “They won’t know that it was me, nothing connects me to the murder. They won’t even know it’s murder if they can’t find you. Anyways I know have to clean away my magical signature, just in case. I didn’t touch the wards; the portkey let me in, even if I manipulated it a little, no one knows you’re here. They won’t find you. The only thing they’ll know is you are dead. Can’t stop Gringotts unfortunately, but it won’t matter,” Ronald said madly pointing his wand down at Harry. 

“Maybe,” Harry said. “But they won’t find your body either. Bite him!” Harry ordered. Ronald sent a piercer point blank towards Harry’s head but not before Harry had the pleasure of hearing Ronald scream in pain. Boomslang venom was already extremely potent but with the extra boost Harry had given the snake, Ronald would be in too much pain to move and would only have a minute perhaps two, to live. 

\--------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break---------------------------------------------------

Jaehaerys was relieved when he was thrown out of the vison and the colors blurred around him again. Not only had he seen that one all too often for his tastes, but only in his visions as Harry did he actually experience the vision as though he was in the body of Harry Potter. Suddenly the colors stopped and so did he. Only this time they didn’t form anything. All around him was grey and foggy. 

“Little One,” a raspy voice called out and the misty fog parted for a cloaked figure that didn’t walk, but rather glided forwards. “You aren’t supposed to be here Little One,” the figure said. 

“Where is here?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“Evermore, Little One,” the figure said. 

“Where is Evermore? Why are you calling me Little One? Who are you?” Jaehaerys asked. 

“You’re still fighting the memories?” the figure asked in surprise. “I would have thought with the barrier down everything would finally blend. You always sought to be difficult Little One, even with accepting your Mastery over me,” the figure said. Jaehaerys felt as though the figure was smiling as though amused even without being able to see anything more than shadows where its face should have been. The cloak fell away from a shadowy hand as it lifted towards Jaehaerys’s head. Jaehaerys tried to shift but he was frozen as the shadow brushed across his forehead. Pain exploded and everything became one. 

\-------------------------------------Don’t Mind Me I’m Just A Page Break----------------------------------------------------

Harry, no he was Jaehaerys here, opened his eyes amidst the burning flames and looked down at his sister. While the bed Harry, no Jaehaerys, he was going to have problems with that for a bit until he got used to truly being both instead of just remembering things about one but being the other, was no longer on fire as it was now ash the tent and the things within it were still burning. 

“Daenerys,” Jaehaerys whispered, as he stroked her cheek in a brotherly fashion. Her eyes flickered open though it took her a moment to register the world around them was on fire. 

“Jaehaerys,” Daenerys said, “Why is everything on fire?” 

“It’s a long story,” Jaehaerys said about to continue before pausing, having heard something. He tilted his head. There it was again, a chirp of some sort. He looked towards the end of ash pile that had once been the bed, where the dragon eggs had once sat within a cushion and silk lined chest. Three baby dragons watched both he and his sister chirping adorably. 

“Dany do you see?” Jaehaerys whispered excitedly. 

“Yes, brother,” Daenerys said, “But how?” It took a moment for Jaehaerys to realize the answer, the answer that had been there all along. 

“Fire and Blood sister, Fire and Blood,” Jaehaerys answered.


	23. Hiatus Notice

Thanks to a lovely reader I have decided that rather than adoption I will put this on hiatus, an option I hadn't even considered before. I can't say when I'll come back to it and I can't promise not to start other stories before coming back to this one. Sometimes no matter how plotted out and planned I have a story I just can't seem to continue writing. It might possibly be because of the two I have already posted and ongoing or it could be the other six I've got sitting in my documents.


	24. Chapter 24

I want to apologize, my computer decided to tap out and while I now have a new one I was unable to save my hard drive and therefore everything including my synopsis for my story, while I am still not abandoning it i will likely take longer to update now that i have to work from memory as well as find my muse, this applies for my other two stories as well. Thank you and sorry for the further delay.


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